Sweet Childhood
by Lizzy Sidle
Summary: Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.NOW COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_**Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them."**_

_**-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

* * *

**_

_**September 23, 1976**_

A little brunette girl peeked over the edge of her parents' bed, disarrayed blankets covering the two sleeping figures. Dawn was just beginning to break, shown by dim light shining into the room. A stain-glass window hanging with a pattern of lilies hung in the window, the light passing through it sending beams of rainbow dancing throughout the room.

"Mommy?" the girl whispered quietly, gazing cautiously past the blankets. "Daddy?"

One of the forms moved, protests emitting by means of a mumble. The man turned on his side, facing his daughter, eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.

"Dad." she repeated, louder. With a single finger, she reached silently forward and poked her father roughly in the eye.

"Ow! Sara! Honey! Don't do that!" Her father sat up and rubbed his eye in pain. Sara backed down quickly so only her two chocolate eyes could be seen over the mattress.

"I'm sorry Daddy," she continued in a hushed voice. "But it's my birthday today."

"That's right!" her father gushed, recovering from his minor injury. "It's Sara's birthday today! How's my five-year-old girl on this happy day?"

She stood up straight and smiled happily, as her father reached over the side of the bed and lifted her into his lap.

"A happy birthday to you my dear." He bowed his head comically, then began tickling her nonstop. She screeched with glee and kicked and screamed until some groans of complaint from the opposite side of the bed stopped them mid-tickle.

"I think your mother's up." Sara's father whispered in her ear.

"I think so too." she whispered back. They turned they're gazes to the other body in the bed. The blankets flew off the face of a woman with dark auburn hair and matching eyes.

"You thought right." she muttered with a sigh, rubbing her face and shielding her eyes against the light of the sun.

"Mommy," Sara began. "It's my _birthday_ today." She beamed, as though it were the best thing in the world.

"I know it's your birthday. How could anyone forget?"

Sara leaned over to her mother, arms outstretched. She was passed from parent to parent as her mother lifted her into her own lap.

"Mommy, can I have my super-duper-yummy breakfast for my birthday?" she questioned innocently.

"You mean the super-duper-yummy breakfast that involves spinach, artichokes, and broccoli?"

"No!" Her lips recoiled into a sneer of disgust.

"_Oh_. You mean the super-duper-yummy breakfast with the chocolate-chip pancakes and eggs and bacon?"

Sara smiled broadly and squirmed out of the bed eagerly while her parents shared a look of contentment, following a few moments afterward.

* * *

At the table, Sara, her mother Laura, and father Jim, ate serenely. Sara was chatting away, explaining all the things she was hoping she received for her fifth birthday.

"I was really hoping to get that book we saw at the store, remember Mommy?" she chatted through bites bacon.

"I bet you got me that poster Dad. You knew how much I wanted it." She blabbed after gulping down the rest of her orange juice.

"Actually honey," her mother began, taking a napkin from her table and wiping chocolate chip from her daughters face, "We decided we'd take you somewhere today, anywhere we could drive too. That will be your birthday present."

Disappointment seemed to dwell in Sara's eyes for a few moments but then she went into a slight stupor, thinking inaudibly and staring down at her hands.

"The beach." she finally stated.

"The beach?" her father repeated. Laura was busy looking out the window at the red morning sky.

"I don't think that's a good idea honey. It's red outside and you know what that means."

"Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. I know Mommy. But you said _anywhere_! I've never been to the beach before! Most all the kids in kindergarten went! I want to go!" She stuck her lip out in a little girl pout and crossed her arms.

Her mother gave a pleading look in the direction of her husband, but he was little help.

"You _did_ say anywhere. We'll leave when it starts raining."

Sara smiled widely again.

* * *

"Come on!" Sara cried, running barefoot through the sand towards he waves of the ocean. She stopped abruptly, just before the tide, mouth open, staring out at the cloudy sky and waves.

"So what do you think of the ocean?" her father asked, stepping up beside her, following her line of sight.

"It's…beautiful." she managed. The beach was deserted besides gulls pecking at clams in the dirt and flying through the slight breeze. The waves were curling up and over themselves, leaving white froth up on the shore.

"Can I go in the water Daddy?" Sara asked insistently. "Please? Oh please Daddy?"

He chuckled and swooped her up in his arms, running for the salty water like a football player. She screamed joyously, mixed with giggles, arms spread in pointless hopes of flying.

"Look Mommy! Watch!" Her father dipped her right side up in his arms, standing up to his ankles in the ocean. His wife stood up on shore still, arms folded in hopes of shielding the slight chilly wind, laughing at the happy picture of father and daughter.

"Ready to go in?" he asked Sara teasingly.

"Yes!" she giggled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Daddy! Yes!"

"Okay!"

He dipped her feet in the frigid water and she shivered and clung to his neck.

"That's _cold_!" She shivered again.

"I know it's cold. It's better on a warmer day."

"I don't like the water, take my back to Mommy please."

"Are you sure? You might get used to it."

"I'm sure. It's too cold."

"All right," He lifted her out of the water, draped her over his shoulder, and began trudging back to shore.

"How'd you like the water Sara?" her mother asked once they were back on land.

"It was cold. You were smart not to go in there Mom."

Her parents chuckled.

"What's that?" Sara asked, pointing at a place were gulls were pecking.

"Probably something dead honey." her mother mumbled, craning her neck to look.

"I want to see!"

"No Sara—"

But it was too late. Sara had already dashed over, sea gulls flying up into the gray sky. She crouched down and looked interestedly at what appeared to be part of a beached fish. She wrinkled her nose against the smell, but picked up a stick and poked the animal with it.

"Sara honey, don't touch it. You might get sick." Laura cried after trotting over to Sara and the fish.

"No," She poked it again, in the eye. "It's dead. It can't hurt me."

"Yes it can Sara, come here." She picked her daughter from the ground as thunder sounded over the beach and rain began to leave tiny craters in the sand.

"Let's go home," Jim muttered, placing his arms over his wife and daughters heads to protect them from the rain.

"Already?" Sara cried disbelievingly.

"We said until it started raining." Laura commented walking slowly towards the car, daughter in arms.

"But we just got here!" Sara defended.

"You got to see the beach like you wanted. Maybe we'll come back later, when it's a little warmer. Then I'll teach you how to swim!" Jim exclaimed, opening the door for his wife and child to enter.

"In the water?" Sara asked as she was buckled in.

"Yep."

"No."

"Why not?" Her mother exited the car, grin on her face.

"The water's too cold!" Sara stated as though obvious.

He chuckled and closed the door as another rumble of thunder sounded.


	2. Part One: Chapter One

**Part One: Chapter One**

_**August 28, 1979**_

Sara awakened to the loud clap of thunder, the pounding of rain, and flashing of lightning. She pushed herself up in bed, and looked over towards the small radio-clock by her bedside: 4:30 a.m. Instead of flopping back under her covers for more sleep, she propped herself upon her elbows and gazed quietly out the window at the trickling streams of rainwater falling down the windowpane.

She had dreamt a nice dream that night, but it was more memory than dream. It was her first visit to the beach, her fifth birthday present, one of her favorite memories. She hadn't gone since, not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. After that last year of general happiness, it went downhill faster than a bowling ball dropped from a twenty-story building. Her father had gotten a job with better pay. Things were still good. Her mother opened a bed and breakfast with the money. Everything was still fine; Sara was even allowed to play with some of the kids and their families that dropped by to spend the night.

The problems started when it began taking her father longer and longer to get home. She could remember one night, sometime in January two years before:

* * *

_Sara sat in the middle of the living room floor playing marbles. Her mother was lying on the couch, half-asleep. It was nearing midnight and Sara and her mother had been up all night, waiting for her father to get home. She flicked marbles back and forth, back and forth, watching them roll against each other, bumping and pushing by the mere shove of her finger._

_"Sara honey," her mother mumbled suddenly, sitting up on the couch._

_"Yes Mommy?"_

_"It's time for you to go to bed."_

_"But I want to stay up for Daddy to get home!"_

_"I don't think he'll get back for awhile. Besides, it's a school night, you need your rest."_

_Sara stuck out her lip in another pout._

_"Daddy wouldn't send me to bed."_

_"Daddy's not here."_

_Laura picked her daughter from the ground and cradled her, walking towards the bedroom. She laid her down gently under the covers and handed Sara 'Herbert,' her stuffed puppy._

_"Where is Daddy, Mom?" Sara asked, gazing up at her mother. Laura had bags under her eyes and her hair was tousled and appeared worn. Her dark eyes seemed worried and angry._

_"I'm not sure."_

_Sara had fallen asleep restlessly that night, but soon awakened to voices from the other room._

_"Your daughter was waiting for you to get home for three hours! She went to bed only two hours ago! Where have you been?" Her mother's voice was filled with disbelief, shock, and anger._

_"I got held up at the office."_

_"No you didn't! I know you didn't! You've been somewhere else! Somewhere you're not supposed to be! If you weren't, you would have called in! You would have told me you weren't going to be home anytime soon!"_

_"It's nothing like you're thinking Laura!"_

_"Then what is it then?" she shouted, voice cracking angrily._

_"Nothing!"_

_"Yes it is!"_

_Suddenly a crash, a yelp of pain, and the sound of scattering marbles filled Sara's ears.

* * *

_

That was their first hospital visit. Jim had pushed Laura, who had fallen on Sara's marbles. A sprained wrist and bruised back were all that had occurred, but that wasn't the end of it. The next time her father came home late, the argued yet again, that time her mother ended up with a beaten face.

Her father came home later and later since then, sometimes drunk, sometimes angry. Her mother began drinking profusely, to the point of alcoholism. They fought regularly every night. And this night was no different.

"Took you long enough to get home!" Her mother's angry voice echoed into the room. "Who was it this time? Your secretary or your coworker?"

"Nobody! I was held up at the office and stopped for a few drinks on the way home!"

"Oh, it was the bartender?"

"No! Stop accusing me!"

"Accusing? ACCUSING? I'm not accusing! I'm finding the truth!"

"Just shut up Laura! Leave me be!"

"I WILL!"

Sara could hear footsteps coming to her bedroom door. She pulled her head off her arms and looked towards it. The door swung open, a stressed looking Jim stomping into the room. He slammed the door angrily, so hard everything in the room shook.

"Dad?" Sara muttered in a whisper, turning around and sitting properly.

"What!" he yelled, swinging around to face her.

She cringed backwards and her eyes filled with tears.

"No…honey, Sara, don't cry. Please—I didn't mean to make you cry." He held out his arms and strode towards her after flipping on a light, embracing her tightly in an attempt to comfort her. Sara sniffed and wiped her tears away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry. You scared me. I don't like it when you and mom yell, especially at me."

He broke out of the hug and looked down at Sara, still furiously wiping her eyes.

"Why do you and mom always fight?" Sara asked, gazing up into her dad's eyes, tears finally gone from hers, though her voice was ridden with them.

He heaved a sigh and looked up at the rain-ridden window.

"Dad?" she insisted quietly.

"Your mother seems to think I don't love her anymore, that I love somebody else."

"You do. You love Mom and me. Doesn't she know that?"

"Well, she knows I love you. She thinks I love somebody else's Mom."

"That's silly."

"I know," He looked away from the window back down at Sara. "I will always love your mother. And you too. I'll never stop, even after I die."

"Don't say that. You'll never die." She glared at him.

"Everyone dies eventually. It's something you can choose to deal with now or later."

Sara smiled.

"You're so _wise_ Dad."

"Wise?"

"That's what Miss Herdman said last year. She said people who give good advice based on their past experiences and know lots are _wise_."

"Do you think Miss Herdman is wise?"

"No, she knows lots but she doesn't give good advice."

He chuckled heartily.

"I think you're wise Sara."

"That's silly. I'm not wise."

"I say you are so you are."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She went silent and stared down at her hands. A few minutes of silence passed, her father stroking her dark hair.

"Why do you hit Mom sometimes?" Sara interrupted the silence with the same curious tone she always used when asking questions.

Jim's eyes seemed to glaze over and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Look at the time!" he exclaimed spotting the radio-clock. "I didn't even think I'd been out this late…early. You need to get some sleep young lady. To sleep, go on, under the covers with Sara."

"I'm not tired."

"But Mom and Dad are so you need to sleep until we're done sleeping."

"But—"

"No buts!"

She huffed angrily but pulled the covers over herself all the same. He stood up, blew her a kiss, turned the light off with an 'I love you', and left. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, Sara sat stealthily up in her bed, reached under her pillow and pulled out a thick book.

She spent the rest of that morning reading.


	3. Part One: Chapter Two

**Part One: Chapter Two**

_**May 31, 1980**_

Sara knocked slowly upon the faded doorway leading to the bed and breakfast section of the home.

"Hello?" she called quietly in a nervous whisper.

The door opened and a little boy peeked out cautiously. He had dark brown hair, freckles dotting his nose, and wide blue eyes.

"Oh, Sara. It's just you," he said.

Sara smiled and held up a kickball.

"Do you want to play outside with me?" she asked.

"I can't we're packing."

Sara's eyes widened.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah."

"But I thought you were staying for a couple more nights!"

The boy shrugged.

"Mom said she doesn't want to stay here anymore because of your parents. They were fighting again last night."

Sara blinked and let the kickball drop to the ground.

"Can I come in?" she whispered, giving the ball a small kick towards her room.

"Sure," The boy opened the door a little wider and Sara stepped in, looking up the staircase towards the three upstairs rooms. The little boy opened the first room's door, the bedroom door, and Sara walked in to find two adults packing up small piles of clothes and toys.

"Hi Mom, Dad." The boy said once he entered the room. "Sara wanted to come in."

"Hello," Sara whispered, shifting shyly into a corner.

"Don't be shy Sara. Would you like to help pack?" the boy questioned.

"Now, Michael don't say that. She doesn't have to help!" Michael's mother scolded.

"No, I'll help." She moved forward slowly and began folding some of the clothes lying out on the bed.

"What a sweet girl," the woman, declared, patting Sara on the head.

"It's too bad you have to live with your parents. They're not very nice," the little boy muttered, gathering some toys from the ground.

"Michael!" his mother snapped.

"Sorry."

"It's all right. Besides, they still love me, and I'm used to it." Sara mumbled, placing the newly folded clothes in the family's suitcase.

"Such a sweet girl, it's a shame." Michael's mother whispered to her husband.

Sara shrugged and looked around the room.

"Is that it?" she asked.

The woman nodded.

"I'll help you take your stuff down." Sara lifted the suitcase off the bed and began rolling it gently down the stairs.

Michael looked up at his parents for a pleading second.

His mother sighed, and then said, reluctantly, "All right. You and Sara can play outside for a little bit, but just a little while. We need to leave soon."

The boy beamed and dashed down the stairs after Sara.

"Sara!" he shouted.

She turned around and watched Michael as he leapt down the flight of stairs.

"What?" she asked, as Michael skidded to a halt beside her.

"Mom said I could play with you for a little bit. Where'd the kickball go?"

Sara beamed, set the suitcase against the wall, dashed into her room, and came out bouncing a kickball between her hands.

"Let's go!" she cried.

They walked side by side through the kitchen where Sara's mother was puffing on a cigarette and flipping through a magazine with a bottle of beer on the table next to her.

"Mom," Sara stated, "Michael, and I are going to go play for a little bit outside. His family is checking out today and his mom said he could play a little before they go."

"Okay," Laura muttered, not looking up from her magazine and taking another drag from her cigarette. Sara wrinkled her nose against the smoke and left, bouncing the kickball against the floor as Michael opened the door.

* * *

"Have your parents always been arguing like that?" Michael asked, kicking the ball across the yard. Sara stopped it with her foot and kicked it back to Michael.

The sun was shining brightly and a nice refreshing breeze whipped through the yard, waving the trees, grass, and the children's hair.

"No, they only started arguing when my dad got his new job. It takes him awhile to get home some nights and Mom gets mad when he's late."

Michael caught the ball between his hands and punted it back.

"What do you do when they argue?"

Sara caught the ball but stood still afterwards, thinking silently.

"I just…wait it out, pretend it's not happening."

"Oh." Michael looked down at his toes, "I think I'd do that too."

They stood silently for a few minutes, ball underneath Sara's arm. Another wave of wind passed by and blew the trees so the leaves rustled. Suddenly, a yell from inside, almost like an angry cat, rang out into the yard. Sara and Michael's gazes turned from the ground to the house.

"We're not staying!" cried Michael's mom from inside.

"Please!" shrieked Laura.

"No!" came the booming voice of Michael's dad.

"Just one…one night?"

"No!"

A sound of crashing glass and a cry of pain reached the children's ears. More words of hate were shared and then "She's cut! She needs stitches!"

Michael and Sara, eyes wide, shared a look with each other then ran to the house, looking in through a dusty window. Sara wiped away the dust with her sleeve and squinted into the house.

The scene wasn't pretty. Laura was standing by the counter, eyes wide in shock. Sara looked over to the opposite wall where Michael's parents were standing. Michael's father was standing next to his wife, apparently wrapping something around her arm.

"What happened?" Michael asked, squinting to get a better look.

"I don't know. I think something happened to your mom."

"What?" Michael insisted, sticking his face right up to the glass.

Sara looked harder and saw blood soaking a dishtowel. She looked down to the kitchen floor and saw shattered brown glass, like the beer bottle next to her mother a few minutes ago.

"We're leaving!" shouted Michael's father again.

Michael ran over to the door and thrust it opened. Sara followed, looking in to the scene.

"Grab the suitcase Michael!" his father commanded. "We're leaving and filing charges!"

Michael's father swept past Sara out the door, holding his wife's arm, still seeping blood. Sara watched silently, kickball still under her arm. Michael walked past next, glaring at Sara on his way out, lugging the suitcase.

"Michael!" she called, jogging after him, "Is your mom all right?"

He turned to face Sara, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"I don't know!" he yelled.

Sara jogged up to his side.

"Are you…mad at me for something?"

Michael's parents entered their car and Michael stomped a foot down.

"YES! I'm mad at you! I'm mad at you for _everything_! It's all your fault! My mom's _hurt _because of you!"

Sara gulped under the volley of anger and felt tears well up. She rolled the kickball towards Michael.

"You can have my kickball if it makes you feel better," she whimpered, a single tear rolling down her face.

Michael picked up the ball, turned around, and stomped away towards the car. Sara stepped up to the road and watched as the car sped away. Once she sat down, and the car rounded a corner, she saw her red ball, rolling down along the road back towards her. She watched it roll to a stop before her feet then, sitting on the curb, head in her hands, she cried.


	4. Part One: Chapter Three

**Part One: Chapter Three**

**_April 7, 1984_**

Sara sat silently in her room, pouring over her homework for the umpteenth time. She had already checked over it repeatedly for the past hour, but there was nothing else particularly interesting to do. Yes, there was her floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with books, but she had read each and every one of them three times at least. She had long since outgrown the dusty dollhouse in the corner of the room. So here she was, going over homework…again.

Her eyes drooped with boredom and she attempted stating the facts out loud in hopes of staying awake.

"Acceleration is the rate at which velocity changes…know that…" She flipped the page over. "Gravity…blah…mass…blah…inertia…know that…" She slammed her science textbook down on the desk in resentment, folding her arms and setting them over the book, head coming down to land on top as a 'boredom sundae'.

There hadn't been anything to do ever since the bed and breakfast closed all those years ago. Michael's parents had filed charges for battery. Not surprisingly, Sara's mother was fined, so much so they were forced to sell their upper level to somebody else, a cranky old widow named Clarabelle, with tons of cats and a temper to match. She never liked Sara (or kids for that matter) and Sara felt the same way towards her, avoiding her whenever possible. The house was beginning to reek of cat feces and Sara was tempted many a time to go up there and clean up, no matter how much the old bat complained.

Sara's eyes closed atop the book and she breathed deeply, trying to get peaceful visions into her mind. Instead, a stick man flailing about on top of a car as it sped to a wall, crashing forcefully, then flying up over the top filled it.

Sara groaned, "Physics…" and opened her eyes in indignation, another angry sigh escaping.

Suddenly the sounds of clinking keys and an opening door reached Sara's ears. She sat up straight instantly and glanced at the radio-clock on her desk: 4:30 p.m.

"Dad?" she whispered to herself, disbelief flooding her words. Why would he be home this early? _How_ could he be home this early?

She flung herself out of her jaded stupor towards the door, thrusting it open eagerly to spy her dad, setting his keys and jacket down on the kitchen table.

"Dad!" she exclaimed surprised, but beyond happy all the same. She ran up to him and flung herself around his neck. "I can't believe you're home this early! It's been so boring here, you wouldn't believe it! I—I can't believe it!" she stuttered. She clung to his neck, standing on tiptoes.

Her father chuckled.

"I can't believe how big you've gotten. I've only seen you when you're sleeping for the past few weeks. Is your homework done? Man I've been meaning to ask you that question for two months now…"

"You have _no_ idea how done my homework is. What brings you home so early?" Sara asked excitedly, enormous smile on her face, finally letting go of him and looking up into his face.

"Oh—uh…" he blinked and gulped.

"Dad?" Sara whispered, smile fading.

"I…uh…"

"Oh…Dad…no…you haven't been…" Sara ran a hand through her hair. "You haven't been…fired…have you?"

Slowly, solemnly, her father nodded.

"But…" Sara blinked away the feelings of panic rising in her now. He can't be fired…no, he _can't_ be fired. He was their only source of money! Her mother never went to college, dropped out of her job once she married. It was impossible for her dad to be fired.

"I'm sorry Sara." Jim whispered gravely.

"But…" She gazed up at him pleadingly, waiting for the moment where he'd burst out laughing because it was all just a big trick. "Why?" she asked, voice straining.

He looked out at the sun then back at Sara.

"Come with me," he mumbled. He strode over to Sara's bedroom and she followed silently, shock keeping her from properly grasping the facts. He held open the door for her and she entered, sitting down at her desk chair in a numb silence. Her father was soundless for a few more minutes, hands on his hips in hopes of forcing Sara out of awaiting an answer. It was foolish really; Sara would never back down from a needed answer.

"Sara," he began.

"I'm listening," she mumbled.

"You know how I…sometimes hit your mother?"

"Yeah,"

"Well…today at work, one of my coworkers made me mad, real mad. You know like the one time when you were six and a boy from school stole your book and threw it in the mud."

"Yeah,"

"Well, today, I got mad at her, and…raised my hand to her, somebody not your mom."

Sara dropped her jaw.

"You didn't actually hit her did you?" she moaned, eyes looking up at her father in an insistent glare.

"No, no, but I was mad enough to scare her and so…I was fired."

They sat there in a hushed silence for awhile longer. How could he be fired. It was all a dream. All it was, was a stupid dream, just a stupid dream that she would wake up from soon and she'd be five again, walking along the shoreline.

"I have homework to do dad." Sara finally muttered, turning her gaze away, glancing back at the stationary textbook. She stared hard at the cover and blinked away angry tears until she heard her father leave the room. How could he do that to her? How? What had she ever done to deserve all of this? The drunkenness, the anger, the hitting, the fights, the hospital visits, Clarabelle. She bit her tongue at the mention of the old hag and the reminder of the awful stench in the house.

She continued staring at the title of her textbook "Earth Science and Physics: 7th Grade" Suddenly, a soft pawing at her door brought her attention from the boring title. Curiously, she crept out of her chair and strode over to her door. Once she was outside it, the pawing stopped, she made to step away, convinced she had just heard things, but as soon as her foot was just about to step down, the pawing started again.

"What the…" Sara opened the door and an orange tabby padded slowly into the room.

"Great…" Sara muttered. "You'd think she'd remember to close the doorway seeing as how she doesn't even use it." She walked over to the cat who had now settled himself down on her bed. "Get, go on. Off!"

The cat didn't budge.

"Don't make me take you off there myself."

The cat yawned widely and began grooming itself.

Sara heaved a sigh and picked the cat up from the bed. It began purring gently and snuggled into her arm.

"You reek," was all she could mutter, but she still felt some comfort. "Let's get you back to…" she stuck out her tongue in disgust, "Clarabelle."

She walked out of her room and over to the doorway leading to the upper level. The door wasn't open so she knocked on the wood gently like she had all those years ago when the bed and breakfast was around and she wanted to play with the kids. She was never very skillful when it came to making friends. The only ones she really had were those temporary children that stopped by to sleep for a few nights and now that they were gone, she had almost no one except her teachers.

Sounds of somebody stepping slowly down the staircase reached Sara's ears. The door swung open and a batty old woman with glasses, gray hair, and wrinkled skin, appeared. She was wearing an aged tattered bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers.

"I found your cat Ms. Clarabelle." Sara muttered politely, attempting to hold the cat clinging to her shoulder out to Clarabelle.

"Oliver," the woman muttered in a voice like ice. "I was wondering where you were." She reached out and snatched the cat roughly from Sara's grip.

"Now get Sara. Shoo, before I set my cats on you."

She slammed the door in Sara's face but she remained standing there, the horrible stench of cat poop reaching her nose, nearly making her gag. Why was she always so cranky around kids? There was no reason Sara knew of for her to be. Sara remained stationed there, to the point where the door swung open again.

"_What_ do you want?" Clarabelle cried, standing angrily in the doorway, the stench filtering into Sara's nose again.

"Why do you hate kids?" Sara asked blandly, staring unblinkingly at Clarabelle.

The old woman's jaw dropped then she narrowed her eyes and stuck her lip out in an attempt at looking menacing.

"Now you listen here Sara," She shook a finger angrily in Sara's face. "I _don't_ hate kids." Then she slammed the door in Sara's face.

"Then why do you hate me?" she called through the wood.

The door swung back open and Clarabelle glared back out.

"I don't."

"Then why do you act like you do?"

Clarabelle stood staring at Sara, mouth hanging open in shock of her boldness.

Sara stood placidly in front of her, waiting for an answer. Clarabelle closed her mouth, then waved Sara inside.

"You better come in," she croaked.

Sara stepped quietly onto the steps, following Clarabelle slowly seeing as how the woman was stiff with age. Several cats ran past her ankles and the stench of feces grew stronger. She tried her best to breathe through only her mouth but the air was thick and it was difficult to breathe past the smell.

"Have a seat Sara," Clarabelle muttered, opening the door into the kitchen and gesturing at a small table and two chairs. One was very dusty, probably because she never received any visitors…ever. The woman shuffled over to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out a jug of milk. Sara sat down quietly in the dusty chair and swung her legs distractedly, holding onto the sides of the chair, looking around the room.

Cat food littered the floor along with stains of pee and puked up hairballs. There were currently two cats in the room, Oliver being one of them. They were winding around and around Clarabelle's legs. The old woman didn't seem to notice as she poured two glasses of milk for her and Sara. When she finished she set the milk down on the counter and brought the two glasses over to the table.

"Thank you," Sara whispered taking the glass from her.

Clarabelle sat down and began sipping her milk quietly, gently patting one of the cats who had accumulated itself in her lap. Sara stared at the glass, still swinging her legs, not bothering to drink. Clarabelle watched her, becoming steadily more irritated.

"Well are you going to drink it or not?" she finally snapped.

"You haven't answered my question." Sara stared defiantly into Clarabelle's beady blue eyes. She stared back, but brown outdid blue, and Clarabelle was first to look away.

"Now, Sara, there are some things in life that one of these days you're going to need to understand. Death is one of them. When I was a young woman, younger than your mother even, I was pregnant and was going to have a baby."

Sara listened intently, her legs still swinging vaguely beneath her seat.

"Now, when I went to the hospital to have the baby, I was in labor for more than 72 hours. You know what labor is don't you?"

Sara nodded.

"Now, when I finally had the baby, it…" she blinked and bent down to pick up one of her cats from the ground.

"She was a still born. She was dead."

Sara turned her gaze down to the ground.

"Now, I tried again…but it died, a miscarriage. Then we found out that I can't have kids." She stared down at Oliver who was meowing around Sara's legs.

"I think he likes you." Clarabelle muttered vaguely, smiling for the first time Sara had ever seen. It revealed graying dentures. "Go on, pick him up."

Sara uncertainly reached over the side of the chair and picked the tabby from the ground.

"But I still don't get it. Just because you couldn't have kids doesn't mean you can't like them."

She looked down to one of her cats again.

"Well you know, ever since my husband died, about ten years later, I've been rather ornery. Do you know what ornery means?"

Sara nodded again.

"You're a smart kid Sara. You don't really deserve to live in this small little dump. I've seen your room. You like to read?"

Sara nodded yet again.

"I've got some books if you want to read those."

"Really?" Sara exclaimed.

Clarabelle nodded.

"Have you read Anne Franks Diary?"

Sara shook her head. "I've heard of it, just never read it."

"I'll be right back," the woman stood up and began walking away towards the bedroom. Sara sat where she was, stroking Oliver slowly behind the ears, waiting for Clarabelle to come back. She finally returned, carrying a small stack of books.

"Let's see, we've got Anne Frank's diary, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, Moby Dick, and 20,000 Leagues under the Sea. The classics, not any of the junk you kids are reading today."

"Wow!" Sara exclaimed, gaping at the stack of books. "Are you sure I can borrow them?"

"You can keep them my dear." Clarabelle smiled as wide as her old wispy frame would allow. Sara beamed. Then, a faint call from the lower level interrupted their meeting.

"Sara! Where are you?" It was her father. "It's dinner time! I'm taking you out!"

Sara, arms tight around the stack of books, glanced down the stairs.

"I've got to go."

Clarabelle smiled.

"Come back some time."

Sara returned the grin.

"All right. I'll see you later."

Sara then tipped Oliver from her lap to the floor and walked out of the room towards the staircase, waving as best she could with one arm holding the load of novels.

"I'll see you later," Clarabelle repeated airily, watching Sara leave.


	5. Part One: Chapter Four

**Part One: Chapter Four**

**_August 3, 1984_**

Sara sat quietly on her bed, staring absentmindedly at the cover of the book she just finished reading. "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" were the words imprinted in gold foil upon the dusty cover. It was one of the books Clara (As she had instructed Sara to call her) had given her. Sara had taken it, eagerly, remembering one of the things Clara had said. Clara had made a pointed statement when handing it to her "You should read this, I think you'd make a fine detective one day Sara."

Still gazing at the cover, running a single finger along the golden words, Sara thought of Clara, her one true friend. Ever since that one night, Sara went up to Clara's home any time she felt down on her luck or just longing for a chat. Clara became steadily more eager for Sara's visits and almost every time Sara came, she had a small stack of new books waiting for her.

Their visits mainly went in a sort of schedule. Sara would arrive, and Clara would show her upstairs. They would sit at the kitchen table and talk about life below, sometimes Sara cried, something she hadn't done in front of people for years. When they had finished eating some of the sandwiches or whatever else Clara sat out, Sara would take the books and go back downstairs. Some days when Clara was feeling particularly worn out, Sara would go for a quick cleaning sweep around the house, spraying disinfectant here, scrubbing off cat puke here.

It went that way for four months. Sara could still remember one visit clearer than any other in her vault of cherished memories.

* * *

_"Hello Sara!" Clara cried when the door opened._

_Sara waved, smile on her face, and stepped forward onto the staircase. Sara had long since perfected the art of ignoring the foul smell in the house, for it still lingered no matter how much she seemed to clean. When they entered the kitchen a platter of chocolate chip cookies was set out in the middle of the table along with a couple glasses of cool milk._

_Sara grinned at the sight of the sweets and sat down at once. Clara followed stiffly, hunched over in arthritic pain. Sara began swinging her legs underneath the seat as she had done on her first visit._

_"You can go ahead and eat those cookies Sara." Clara mumbled, wincing in pain as she sat down in the opposite chair. "I dare say, you need to get some meat on your bones." The old woman chuckled. Sara, no matter how much she seemed to chow down on, remained skinny as a starved horse, barely more than skin and bones._

_Sara picked up a cookie gingerly and began to nibble slowly at it. Clara watched her eat, vague smile on her face. Then suddenly, she sprang into a fit of coughs, wheezing and hacking like her cats whenever they had a hairball._

_"Clara?" Sara questioned nervously as Clara shook with the coughs._

_"Oh it's nothing Sara, just an old woman getting a bit down on her health. There's nothing you need to worry about, it's only a cold."_

_Sara looked back down at the cookie she held in her hand and took another tiny bite. _

_"Sara,"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Do you remember your first visit here?"_

_"Do I ever!" Sara beamed in thought of the memory._

_Clara chuckled, only to burst into another fit of fierce coughing. When the coughs cleared, she spoke again._

_"Do you remember when I told you death was something you needed to face sooner or later?"_

_Sara was silent and gazed down to her feet where Oliver was pawing at her shoelaces._

_"Yes, I remember." She looked back up and took another bite of her cookie._

_"I think it's best time you start to turn around and face it." Clara muttered, clearing her throat._

_Sara dropped her cookie onto her plate with a clatter._

_"But…Clara," Her eyes widened with a sudden realization. "But that…No! No, you can't! You're my only friend!"_

_"I think it's best time you start finding friends your own age, not eighty-year-old widows."_

_"But Clara!"_

_"I've got one final book for you my dear." the old woman interrupted. She struggled to stand then shuffled out of the room towards the bedroom. Sara sat stock still on the chair in complete disbelief. Clara was going to die soon, the woman knew it, and she was making sure Sara knew it too so she wasn't surprised when she finally snuffed it. Well she sure was sure surprised now, no matter how easily Clara tried to put it.._

_The old woman came back out of the room, carrying a book under her arm._

_"Here you go," She held out the book to Sara who took it grimly. "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective. He solves mysteries." She smiled tenderly. "You should read it. I think you'd make a fine detective one day Sara."

* * *

_

That had been their very last visit. Clara had passed away in her sleep that very night. Sara had stood by the doorway as a team of people took the old woman out in a black bag. Clara was 80 years old when she passed away, July 30, 1984. There was no funeral. She had no family. Sara's parents refused to pay for any sort of proper farewell. That night Sara sat in her room, cried, and prayed for Clara, that she was happy, and that she, herself, would make it through without her guidance.

A single tear dropped onto the book and Sara wiped it off with her hand, the remaining liquid causing the cover to shimmer. Biting her lip angrily, she made to fling the book off the bed. She stopped mid-throw and set the book down gently on the floor. All the new books she had received from Clarabelle, she couldn't possibly damage any of them.

She lay back onto her bed and sighed heavily. Her only friend in the entire world was now dead, had been dead for four days. How was she supposed to survive? There was hardly ever a night her father wasn't drunk anymore. Ever since he was fired, they had been on stuck on welfare, Laura and Jim scrambling for temporary jobs to put food on the table, both managing to get fired every other week.

Sara reached over behind her head and pulled out her pillow, stuffing it into her face as she screamed her frustration out into the muffling feather cushion. She let her hands flop to either side of the bed in a small moment of defeat. What, had she actually expected screaming into the pillow would make everything go away? Of course not.

Nothing she did would ever make it go away. She could never just pinch herself, turn five again, and change everything for the better. She couldn't just go up to her mom and dad, sit them down, tell them to stop fighting, to get jobs, and love each other again. She had long ago learned life didn't work like that.

A sudden crash brought Sara out of her aggravation and she sat up on the bed. Great, they were fighting _again_. They had already argued today, there was no point in them doing it more than once. She pushed the pillow off her head and put two feet on the ground. A sudden growling in her stomach amidst the shouts and crashes filled her with thoughts of a nice sandwich for dinner. She made a beeline for the kitchen and pulled out some bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Not much of a dinner, but it was really all they had.

She grabbed a butter knife from the drawer and began spreading peanut butter over a slice of bread. Sara then reached for the jelly, but something caught slightly out of the ordinary caught her eye. The knife holder that sat on the counter was missing a knife.

"What the…" Sara mumbled, reaching a finger out to touch the empty hole. "Maybe it's in the sink…" She glanced over at the drainer to find nothing there but a couple of glasses from lunch earlier that day. "Where—" But Sara's words were interrupted when a sudden scream of fear and a sudden grunt of pain sent her head whipping around to through a fleeting look down the hallway towards her parents bedroom.

"No…" she moaned aloud. She ran over to the master bedrooms doorway and frantically jiggled at the doorknob. It finally released and she stepped into the room, hoping against hope what she was suspecting was mere speculation. The first thing she did when she entered the room was scream. Not the aggravated scream she had uttered earlier, this time it was a scream of complete fear, shock, disbelief, and utmost astonishment.

Blood was all over the walls, and her mother lay kneeling next to a still Jim, sobbing and shaking, repeating the same words over and over again, "You don't love me…you don't love me…you don't love me…"

Sara's hands were over her mouth and she could feel vomit attempting to creep its way out. Her father's body lay on the ground, splayed out, blood soaking his white t-shirt as it leaked from a large wound in his chest. A bloody steak knife lay on the ground beside him, now steadily becoming engulfed in a pool of his blood.

"Mom…" Sara squeaked, shaky hand gripping onto the doorknob for support.

"I'm sorry Sara. I'm so, soverysorry."

**End of Part One**


	6. Part Two: Chapter One

Part Two: Chapter One

* * *

_**August 3, 1984**_

Moonlight was beginning to shine into a small, black, pickup truck. The light illuminated the dashboard and passenger seat, where the still figure of Sara sat. Her legs were folded in her seat, her arms crossed, and back hunched over, as though she were attempting to fold over and disappear from the face of the earth.

Visions were still flashing into her mind; those horrible visions. The shouting, the missing knife, the blood, the words her mother said; "You don't love me, you don't love me," Those words would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. Now her father was dead. How could he be dead? She had never anticipated his death, at least not until she was an adult, out of the house, a job, a husband, kids maybe even.

Not anymore.

She wanted nothing more to do with anyone, there had been barely anyone in her life before, and afterwards would be no different, she would make sure of it. Back in the room with her mother and now deceased father, Sara had lingered for a few more minutes, staring, taking in the scene, forcing herself to be younger, to be five, to be carefree. It didn't work.

Sara placed her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, emotion pulling a lump into the middle of her throat. She couldn't cry, she _would not_ cry. After those agonizing minutes of inevitable defeat, staring at the bloody floor and her hysterical mother, she called the police, Laura remaining in the room. Sara could still remember her own frightened words over the receiver.

* * *

_"911. What is your emergency?" The woman's voice drawled in an agonizing sort of buzz._

_"My mom! She…she killed my dad! You've got to send the police1 He's…She stabbed him!"_

_"Are you all right?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"How old are you?"_

_"Almost 13! But that's beside the point! Please! Help!" Sara broke out in frightened sobs. It was as if the world were wobbling on top of thin poles and now it had crashed down upon her, causing her to lose all the control she had managed to withhold inside the room._

_"What I want you to do is go outside your house and wait on the front yard. Where do you live?"_

_"418 N. Rightwood Street!"_

_"Thank you, Police will be arriving very soon. Do as I told you." Then the tone sounded…

* * *

_

Sara stared unblinkingly at her lap, almost hoping it would make the entire situation disappear, to go away. This had to be a dream, a nightmare. She was going to wake up any second in her room with Herbert in her arms, children books piled around her on the floor, parents laughing about something out in the living room.

A small sob escaped her thinking about her past life. It had been nearly perfect. It was gone now. It was gone forever and would never come back. Sara frantically wiped a tear from her face and drew a shuddering breath. It felt like she was trapped, an animal cornered in an inescapable cage.

Suddenly a knock on the passenger side window sent Sara out of her thoughts. A woman was standing outside her door, waving at her, gesturing for her to open the door. Sara once more wiped away some freefalling tears and opened the door. The woman smiled and squatted down to look Sara in the eye. Sara stared back angrily; she didn't in the least bit feel like socializing right now.

The woman had curly red hair and brown eyes. She was slightly underweight but then again who was Sara to judge?

"Hey there Sara." the woman began quietly. "I'm Diane. I'm going to be taking you to your new home."

Sara looked back down at her hands and remained quiet. Okay, so she wasn't going to live here anymore. She knew that. She wouldn't have expected anything less. Sara could feel Diane's eyes on her, as though analyzing her, taking in her appearance. Sara remained silent, staring at her hands, rubbing them together as though trying to grasp the facts.

The sound of another set of footprints reached her ears and she could sense another presence.

"Is that her?" asked the voice of a woman other than Diane.

"Yes. She's not really much of a talker. I don't know how much you'll get."

Sara could tell they were trying to speak as quietly as possible so she wouldn't hear; it wasn't working very well.

"Hey there Sara." whispered the second voice. Sara looked up from her lap again and stared into the brown eyes of a tall woman with long blond hair. "I'm Marie Marlon with the San Francisco Crime Lab. I just want to ask you a few questions."

Sara looked away then back again with a barely audible 'Okay'.

"Good," The woman smiled and pulled out a pad of paper and pen. "First off, tell me what went on before the stabbing occurred."

Stabbing. The word left a sour feeling in Sara's senses. She went silent for a few seconds, fixing her eyes on her hands again. Finally, Sara gulped down her emotions and spoke, voice cracking several times.

"I—er—was hungry."

The woman instantly began scribbling on the pad of paper. Sara gawked at her as she wrote down at least two sentences of her three-and-a-half word response.

"Okay, then what happened?"

"Uh—I went to make a sandwich and I noticed that a knife was missing." Sara stammered, gaze snapping from the furiously writing pen.

The woman scrawled again.

"I looked for it real quick but then I heard my mom and dad in the other room."

Sara's voice shook as she recalled the frightening situation she had just gone through. It was horrible knowing it happened, but to admit it happened by recollecting the event was torture.

"I guess I was…too late. When I opened the door he was lying there in a pool of blood." The lump in Sara's throat reached its peak and she could no longer talk. She went silent and pressed her hands together tightly, lacing her fingers together and squeezing.

The woman gazed at her sympathetically for a few more moments before muttering a 'Thank you,' and walking away.

Sara sat in the moonlight, alone once more. The lump in her throat pushed another couple of shaky sobs out. Sara did her best to contain them by pressing her hands over her mouth and attempting to hold her breath. After they passed, she stared out the side window, watching the people beyond the crime scene tape milling about, coming in and out of her home carrying bags here, crime kits there, and eventually an ominous black bag with the figure of a dead man inside.

Another few minutes later, Diane entered the driver's side of the car and turned the transmission on.

"Sorry I took so long. I needed to make a couple of phone calls. I've found a family who'll take you in for a while."

Sara was silent.

"They're the Nelsons; you'll be okay with them. They live a little ways away from here, out of town, so you'll be using a different school district."

She continued her silent stupor as the car pulled off the side of the street. She could feel Diane's eyes on her as they rumbled away.

"Are you all right Sara?" the woman asked.

Sara could feel a snide laugh creeping its way out of her silence but she held it back with a shake of her head. Well her father was just murdered; did that make her all right?

"Well, obviously," Diane scoffed, "You're obviously not all right emotionally. What about physically? We know your mother was beat by him."

Sara tensed. She hated talking about that. Ever since it started, she had chosen to ignore it.

"Did he ever hit you?"

"No, never," Sara gasped. Words were a lot of effort right now. She picked at her nails distractedly, throwing fleeting looks out the window as they rolled by houses and trees.

Diane glanced down either side of the road then turned towards the highway.

"Never raised a hand, threatened you or anything?"

"No, no, he loved me." The last few words cracked as Sara said them. She wouldn't cry. She _couldn't_ cry in front of this woman who felt it her business to poke around in Sara's home life.

Diane left it at that.

* * *

The road was long and the night drifted on, Sara falling in and out of restless sleep, filled with dreams of knives, blood, pain, and her mother's words. Around midnight Diane pulled the car into an off road running past more rows of houses.

"They're around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll like them."

Diane had said that every ten minutes whenever Sara was awake. 'I'm sure you'll like them.' Well by the time Diane stopped rambling about how much Sara would like the Nelsons, she sure wasn't going to like Diane.

Five minutes later the pickup turned into a gravel driveway, illuminated by a porch light. The house was relatively well kept, two stories, two well-trimmed bushes by the doorway, and pansies were growing well in a couple of flower-boxes.

Diane stopped the car and turned to look at Sara.

"Are you ready to go in?"

Sara responded by opening the car door, slamming it, opening the back door, grabbing her duffel bag, slamming that door, then stomping briskly up to the front door of the house and ringing the doorbell. She had gone from shocked, to sad, to annoyed, to angry in a time period of five hours, leaving a trail of aggravated side effects.

By the time the front door was opening, Diane was struggling with her seatbelt, one hand fiddling with the buckle, the other carrying a stack of papers.

Sara rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to the middle-aged woman who had just appeared in the doorway. She had to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Her hair was beginning to gray though it was mostly still brown. She had a charming, comforting smile and a just as cheerful pair of hazel eyes. Those eyes were directed down on Sara, though they had bags under them from being up late.

"Hi there!" Her voice was as pleasant as her eyes and Sara knew (However much she hated to admit it) she was going to like the Nelsons just as Diane said. "You must be Sara!" the woman stated. She reached out a hand to shake and Sara shook it with one light movement.

Diane, hopping on one foot, her other, struggling to fit in a high-heeled shoe, came up to the doorway. The papers, tucked under her arm, were threatening to fall as she wiggled her foot around attempting to fit it in the shoe.

"Darn shoe! It's always falling off!"

"And you must be Ms. Howard, the social worker. I'm Jillian Nelson. You can call me Jill Sara," Jill added. "Why don't you come in?" Jill opened the door a little further for Sara and Diane to enter. They walked straight into a toy-littered living room. A gently crackling fire burned merrily in the middle of the far wall. A television was to the left, facing diagonally towards the right. A couch was up against the right wall beneath the windows, if it could be called a couch. Toys to the millionth were piled upon it. It was more like a lidless toy-box.

"Excuse the mess please. I haven't gotten around to my usual cleaning sweep. I usually clean after dinner every day but today I was busy getting ready for you. Why don't you and I, Ms. Howard, talk in the dining room. Sara, if you want to watch television that would be fine. I'll give you a quick tour of the house later."

Jill and Diane veered slightly to the right, past a staircase and through a doorway leading to the kitchen. Sara did as best she could to walk through the sea of toys, kicking them gently out of her way as she walked. When she reached the couch, she brushed some toys to the side to form a clearing and sat down. She didn't in the least bit feel like watching television. She always ended up becoming distracted. Instead, she reached into her duffel bag for a book.

* * *

"Thank you! I assure you she'll be just fine here." Jill called after Diane as the car started in the driveway. They had finished their meeting within the hour, Sara sitting quietly in the room and reading for that space of time. Jill turned to face her, hands on her hips.

"I thought you'd up and died you were so quiet. You know you could have turned the television on, correct?"

Sara nodded, folding over a corner in her book, closing it, and placing it back in her duffel bag.

"Well, I'll just give you a quick tour and then I need some sleep. Come on this way," She led Sara over to the staircase by the front door. Sara followed, making a great effort not to trip on the mounds of toys. They walked up the stairs, which thankfully was clear of all possible tripping items, and then stopped at the beginning of a two directional hallway.

"The bathroom closest to your bedroom is right over there," Jill whispered, gesturing at a doorway at the end of the left wing. "This is my and my husband's bedroom," she continued gesturing at the door directly in front of her. She then strode down the hallway. The first room she stopped at she waved at the doorway again. "This is Mike and Taylor's room. They're twins and monstrous ones at that. They're the ones that leave cars on the steps most days so you fall down them on your way down to breakfast in the morning."

Sara's eyes widened in her eminent doom, should she wish to walk down the stairs half-asleep. Jill then walked to the very end of the hallway and pointed at a graffiti covered door.

"That's Derek's room. He's not very charming on the outside, he's sort of standoffish, but he's really a sweet boy. You'll attach to him soon I'm sure." She then quietly opened the doorway into the final room, a bright pink one. There were two beds inside, one occupied. More toys were littering the floor in here, though instead of cars and other plastic things, they were dolls and stuffed animals.

"This one's messy too but I'm sure you won't mind. Not many kids aren't accustomed to mess these days. You sleep in here with Meg. She won't do much to bother you. Have a good sleep," Sara walked into the room, quite repulsed at the atrocious color. Pink? A glance at the sleeping figure showed she wasn't much older than five. '_Oh…_' Sara thought.

She set her duffel bag gently on her bed, the only clean thing in the room. An end table resided next to it, a lamp on it, though enough clear space to allow for any pictures or keepsakes. Sara hadn't brought any. She quickly and quietly changed into her pajamas, shoving the duffel bag under her bed for safekeeping. Sara wasn't sure if she was going to accustom herself right away, but at least people weren't trying to kill their spouses here.

Eventually, Sara drifted into an edgy, knife-riddled dream.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! I thought now would be a good time to insert an author's note and I'd like to thank ALL my reviewers! You guys are great! I had no idea this would be so popular! I'm sorry it took so long to get this one out. I've been busy with school. 8th grade is torture, seriously. I've got a Spanish exam on Monday so I've been studying for that all weekend instead of writing but I've finally got it out for you guys! Maybe if I fail my Spanish exam (Which I won't, I'll like die if I do I seriously studied for like 5 hours a night for three nights) I could say I was doing something educational. Writing is so, anyway, right?**


	7. Part Two: Chapter Two

**Part Two: Chapter Two**

_**August 4, 1984**_

"Is that her?" the voice of a little girl whispered harshly.

Sara groaned and rubbed her eyes gently. Though she had slept, probably for a long time since she could feel sunrays beating down on her neck, it felt like she hadn't slept at all.

"I think so," whispered the voice of a young boy.

She had had a horrible dream. Her parents fights had gotten so heated Laura had actually ended up stabbing Jim! Ha! Even she wasn't that crazy so as to actually _kill_ him. Sara sat up on the bed and opened her eyes, completely prepared to go to the kitchen to fetch some old waffles for breakfast.

"Oh my God!" she shouted, scrambling backwards in the bed. These covers weren't hers, they were pink, and this wasn't her room either, _it_ was pink, and there were three little kids all sitting at the end of her bed staring at her.

There were two identical boys, both with disheveled brown hair and blue eyes, each wearing the same black monster truck pajamas. The little girl had long, messy, curly blond hair and sharp gray eyes, wearing a pink Barbie nightgown. That very girl's eyes widened in shock and she exclaimed bossily, "You said 'Oh my God'. You're not supposed to say that. You're going to get in trouble!" The girl ran out of the room and into the hallway, shouting over and over, "Sara said 'Oh my God'! Sara said 'Oh my God'!"

Sara sat rigid in her bed. It wasn't a dream. Everything she had dreamt had been real. She had woken up and it was going to be like this forever. He was really gone. She stared ahead at the door where the little girl, who she assumed was Meg, had run out of earlier. Emotion came pouring back to her but she gulped her tears back.

The two boys, no doubt Mike and Taylor, were whispering excitedly with each other, throwing Sara scheming glances.

"Hey, you are Sara right?" one of the boys asked, breaking out of the conversation.

Sara nodded.

"Mom told us about you. She said your d—"

The other boy quickly clapped his hand over the others mouth. The other continued rambling through the muffler.

"Mom said we weren't supposed to talk about it," the boy hissed. He took his hand off his brother (who then stuck his tongue out) and turned to Sara. "Do you want to help us rip some of Meg's doll's heads off?"

"What?" Sara exclaimed, quite taken by surprise. "No! It's messy enough in here as it is!" She climbed out of bed and Mike and Taylor scrambled down as well.

"Are you sure? It'd be fun!"

"Which is Mike and which is Taylor?" Sara asked, pointing at each of them, rubbing her forehead. The pressure of the past day was causing a horrible headache.

The boy who had clapped his hand over the others mouth, smiled broadly, and stated, "I'm Taylor. This is Mike. You can tell us apart because Mike has a scar over his right eye from when he fell down the stairs once."

Mike beamed and gestured at the scar. There were several spaces in his smile where he had lost teeth. Taylor's mouth was the same, though in different places. Sara was beginning to wonder if those teeth were lost due to the tooth fairy or their own antics.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be tearing your sister's doll's heads off." Sara muttered, picking up her sheets and beginning to make her bed.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked confusedly, staring at Sara as she arranged her covers.

"Making my bed," Sara said as though obvious. What, didn't he make his own bed? She brushed her thought aside. Assuming by the state of this house, he probably hadn't even _seen_ someone do any such thing.

"Why?" Taylor asked, innocently holding his hands behind his back, watching Sara curiously as she worked.

"Because it keeps things neat and tidy." Sara muttered, fluffing her pillow as a final touch. The boys looked over at the newly made bed and a certain greedy look took them.

"Oh no…" Sara whispered under her breath. Instantly the two boys scrambled back onto the bed, then proceeded to hop vigorously up and down, sending the newly flattened sheets every which way.

"No!" Sara moaned, reaching out to the boys and tossing them from the bed to the pile of stuffed animals on the floor.

"Wee!" Mike shrieked as he flopped onto the squishy mound. "Do it again!" he cried gleefully.

"Yeah, Sara! Do it again!" Taylor agreed.

"I can't," Sara muttered though gritted teeth. "I have to make my bed."

Mike raised an eyebrow at her, "No you don't. We don't have to."

"Well, I know," Sara stammered, "But I…I want to, so there."

"Mom says we can't do everything we want." Taylor contradicted.

"Trust me; your mom would want me to do this."

"She's your mom now too though! You can call her Mom!" Mike said.

The rest of the conversation was interrupted as Meg shuffled back into the room, head hung, hair draping her face.

"What's wrong Meg?" Mike asked, leaning over the back of a giant stuffed bear.

"Mom said I was in trouble if Sara was in trouble because I said it more than once."

"Why would you be mean and tattle on Sara on her first day home anyway?" Taylor exclaimed, mimicking his brother by leaning back.

"Because—" But the rest of her words were unheard as Mike and Taylor each grabbed hold of a different stuffed animal and dashed past Meg, giggling manically. Meg screeched and ran after them, her hair, and nightgown flying out behind her as she dashed down the stairs. Sara sighed heavily and went back to making her bed. When she finished she quickly changed into some fresh clothes, in the closet, after discovering irritably there was no lock on her bedroom door.

She pulled a book from her duffel bag, stuck it under her arm, and strode briskly out the door, only for the door to make contact with something on the other side.

"Ow!" cried a boy, teenager probably, from the other side. "Meg! Be careful!" Sara peeked out from behind the door to spot a thin, slightly muscled teenager wearing a black shirt and jeans. His hair was black as well, dyed probably, and his eyes were dark brown.

"You're not Meg," he stated, dumbfounded. Suddenly a look of comprehension dawned on his face, "Oh you must be Sara, the new kid…sister, you might say. The Nelson's adopt half the kids that come through here. I'm Derek by the way,"

He grinned down at her and Sara returned it.

"Uh—Are you all right?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah, pretty much. You hit my nose." He rubbed it comically.

Sara grinned again, painfully, for her current grief was screaming at her to stop being happy. Derek cleared his throat then asked, "Have you met Meg, Mike, and Taylor yet?"

Sara rolled her eyes, "I wish I hadn't. I woke up and they were gawking at me like fish."

Derek laughed.

"You get used to it after a while."

"Can you believe Mike and Taylor didn't know what making your bed was?" Sara exclaimed.

"Actually…I can. I know it's sad, but I can. This place is mess. Unlike my room of course," He gestured back at his graffitied door. "It's nearly spotless in there. You hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sara said through a smile. She tossed the book back on her bed for safekeeping. She liked him already, just as Jill had said she would, and she liked the…well, the adults…like Diane had said.

* * *

Apparently, to Jill, a cleaning sweep was taking everything off the floor and putting it somewhere else, whether it be piling it into an overflowing toy-box, or onto the couches, chairs, and anything else with a surface big enough to support the piles of playthings. Sara, Derek, Meg, and the twins were sitting at the table, bacon, and eggs adorning its top. They were all eating except for Sara who was picking at her food distractedly.

"Eat up Sara. You aren't the chubbiest of the bunch. You need to eat." muttered Jill, phone on her shoulder, earpiece to her ear. "Yeah Beth…Mhmm…Oh she's so sweet…one of these days…probably scared her half to death…"

"Mom's always talking on the phone," mumbled Derek to Sara.

"Mom!" cried Meg. "Derek's whispering at the table!" She leaned in and hissed bossily, "Mom said it's rude to whisper at the table."

"Then you should stop whispering. You don't want to get in trouble do you?" Derek retorted.

Meg narrowed her eyes and sat back in her seat, later declaring she wasn't hungry and that she was going to her room.

"Meg's really bossy," Mike muttered through a mouthful of bacon.

Sara's lips curled in disgust, leaving her even less apt to eat.

"You have to learn how to either ignore her or get back at her. She's quite the hypocrite." Derek added. "You do know what a hypocrite is, don't you?"

Sara nodded. "Of course I do, what do you take me for, a third grader?"

"What, you learned that in third grade?"

"First."

Derek smirked and continued eating his eggs.

A few minutes later, the supposed Mr. Nelson walked into the room, straightening a tie over his chest and combing his remaining hair neatly.

Sara braced herself for the moment when somebody would throw in a snide comment or maybe even start yelling.

"I'm going to work!" he declared vociferously.

"See ya later Dad!" the others cried in unison. Mr. Nelson swept over to his wife, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then stopped short just as he was about to leave. He turned on his heel and stared at Sara.

"Meg!" he exclaimed in false surprise, "You've grown! Look how tall you are now! And…my are you thin…and your hair! Have you been dying it without telling us?" He let out a hearty laugh and the other boys chuckled along with him. "I'm just kidding. You must be Sara."

He reached out a hand and shook Sara's forcefully, his large sausage like fingers swamping her long thin ones. He was rather large with thinning curly black hair, glasses, a goatee and mustache, and beady brown eyes that laughed along with him. He was currently wearing a black business suit and tie.

"I suppose you've met everyone besides me, huh?" he said, patting her hand happily. "Well, now we've met and I have to go otherwise I'll be late for work." He leaned in to her ear and whispered, "You can call me _'dad'_" with particular emphasis on 'dad'.

"I'd…rather not." Sara whispered quietly, a slight whimper in her voice.

"Oh yes, that's right. Barney then,"

"Dad, your name isn't Barney," muttered Derek.

"I know that. But _she_ doesn't. Well, she does now, but…okay then fine. Call me Frankie." He checked his watch and then muttered a final goodbye.

Sara gawked after him as he left. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, analyzing her shocked composure.

"Yeah, I know. He scared Meg half to death when she first came here at age two. Wouldn't stop crying for hours, kept saying the big fat man was crazy." Derek mumbled finishing off a final swig of orange juice. Jill glared at him.

"Her words not mine,"

But that wasn't the real reason Sara sat stock-still. These people got along just fine. There had been no arguing, no fighting, no punching, no slapping, no…anything. Just a kiss on the cheek…a _kiss_.

Sara excused herself from the table, not a bite of food taken, cleared her spot respectfully (receiving many strange looks from Mike and Taylor in the process) and walked briskly up the stairs to her room. She needed to think. She needed to make the best out of her situation and to do that she needed to plan it out, 'it' meaning the rest of her life.

She opened the door and strode straight through the sea of toys towards her bed, but stopped mid walk when she heard some quiet sniffling coming from the closet. Sara was going to grab a book from her duffel bag to help her think, she could always think better whilst reading, but someone (most likely Meg) was crying.

She opened the closet door to reveal, as suspected, Meg, curled up in a ball in the bottom of the closet. She was lying on a pile of blankets, Sara noticed had been taken from Meg's bed.

"What are you doing in the closet Meg?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Hiding,"

"From what?"

"Everyone."

The little girl reached up, grabbed the doorknob, and closed the closet again.

"I found you. You have to come out now."

"You didn't knock! It doesn't count! Mom says you have to knock!"

Sara rolled her eyes and knocked on the door.

"Will you come out now?"

The door creaked open and Meg stood quietly in the doorway, head still hung, as it was earlier that morning.

"Why were you hiding?" Sara asked quietly, bending down to Meg's level. Okay so she was completely bossy and annoying, but she was cute…in an irritating…little five-year-old kind of way.

"Because everyone hates me." Meg muttered, avoiding Sara's gaze.

Sara looked down to the ground quietly then back up at Meg.

"_I_ don't hate you."

"Yes you do."

"_No_ I don't." Sara hated her mom, not some bossy five-year-old. She hated her mom for everything she ever did to her. She killed her father. She doubted his words. She doubted the trust that's supposed to be there when people love each other.

"_Yes_ you do," Meg insisted interrupting Sara's thoughts.

"Why would I hate you?"

"The same reason everyone else does."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm too bossy."

"So was I when I was your age." It was a lie…or at least half a lie. She had no idea if she was bossy at age five. Her parents never got around to telling her all about her childhood. Meg was quiet and remained stationary.

"Why don't you come out of the closet." Sara muttered, holding out a hand. Meg took it reluctantly. Sara pulled her to herself, lifted her up, and placed Meg on her neatly made bed.

"Can you remember your parents?" Meg asked when Sara sat down next to her.

Sara blanked out for a few seconds before answering with a quick nod.

"Were you with someone else before you came here?"

"I was…with my parents."

"Oh," She looked away towards the mess covering the floor. She then questioned Sara again, "Were they nice?"

Sara bit her tongue anxiously, then spoke. "For awhile, yeah." She needed to change the topic. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Look at this mess,"

"I heard you cry last night. Do you dream about them?"

Sara stared at Meg, who stared back, her piercing gray eyes seemingly drilling into Sara's.

"Do you?" Meg insisted.

Sara glanced away at the ground and felt herself flinch inside at the mess. Maybe if she just answered her questions they would get around to making the room hospitable.

"Yeah, I dream about them." Sara mumbled, refusing to look at Meg.

"Why were you crying?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Sara glared at Meg.

"Because it was a sad dream."

"What was it about?"

"What's with all the questions?" Sara pleaded loudly, standing on the floor instead of sitting on the bed. "Look, if you really want to know, my dad is dead and my mom is going to jail for killing him all right? Do you get it? _That's_ why I was crying, _that's_ what I was dreaming about, and right about now I _just_ want to make it all go away!"

The words had become steadily louder to the point Sara was yelling. Meg cowered as Sara kicked a doll to the wall, leaving a dent in its plastic head. After the loud clunk, Sara sat down, put her head in her arms, and sobbed. She cried for her mom, for her dad, for Clara, for herself, for her current life, for her past life, and now she continued to cry for scaring Meg out of her wits.

"Sara?" came a curious voice from the doorway. The door opened and Derek peeked past the side of it into the room.

"Derek you didn't knock!" exclaimed Meg harshly.

"Meg, why don't you go tattle on me for a bit okay? I think Sara wants to be alone. See look, tattle on me! I didn't knock!"

Meg stuck out her lip in a pout, scrambled down from the bed, then walked past Derek, though she did manage to stick her tongue out to make a point. Derek returned the gesture then entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Sara sat curled up in a little ball on the floor, tears falling as though no end, and sobs escaping every few seconds. Derek strode over to her then sat down next to her on the ground. He was silent for a few minutes, waiting for Sara to calm down. When her sobs managed to slim down to two every five minutes, he spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara rocking back and forth, now slightly in control of herself, wiping tears away, managed to speak to Derek.

"It all happened yesterday." She hiccupped and held her breath for a couple of seconds. "One minute they were arguing, the next I noticed a knife missing and he was dead." A sob escaped and Derek placed a loving arm around her shoulders.

"It's all right. You'll like it here, I'm sure."

"And that's another thing!" Sara mumbled through her sobs. "I do like it here, but it's so different I need a really long time to adjust. I can't go from living in hate to living like this in one day." Derek gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

"Do you want to know why I'm here?" he asked, looking down at her. She looked up at him and muttered a soft 'Why?'

"My parents are both dead. Died in a car crash, and I was there with them. I lived, they didn't, end of story. Now I'm here." He gestured at the room. "Well, not here specifically. I'd die if I had to sleep in this room." Sara chuckled slightly, leading only to another hiccup and sob. She felt better, she had to admit. There was something about the cool collected way Derek talked that was in itself comforting.

"I think the best thing to do, is to put it behind you. If someone asks you about it and you don't want to tell them, simply say 'they're on an extended leave' or 'I never knew my parents'. They'll leave it at that. You don't need to get all worked up." He ruffled her hair and Sara smiled. Her tears were scarce now, though her face was quite damp, and her sobs had almost disappeared.

"Will you help me clean my room?" Sara asked, using her shirt to dry her face quickly.

"It is rather messy isn't it?"

"And I think Junior over there needs brain surgery," Sara muttered, pointing at the doll she had thrown earlier, a small chuckle escaping. "I'm not a very nice mom."

* * *

**A/N: Guess What! I Aced my Spanish Exam! Woohoo! I was so happy I decided to treat you guys with my longest chapter yet! Give me some tips please. Does it seem like I'm rushing it at all? Any favorite parts yet? I love opinion!**


	8. Part Two: Chapter Three

Part Two: Chapter Three

_**September 1, 1984**_

Light streamed into Sara and Meg's room through the window above their heads. The room was noticeably tidier than last month, before Sara had come. Toys were in toy-boxes or on beds, not floors. Sara taught Meg how to properly make her bed, so now she could do it with only little help. The closet was neat and organized and the clothes were put away as soon as they were brought upstairs, not splayed out on the floor.

At the current time, an alarm clock was beeping steadily, rousing Sara and little Meg from their slumber. Sara rubbed her eyes groggily, stepped from the bed, and dropped a sleepy hand down on the clock. The clock stopped its loud drone and Sara flattened some of her bedhead.

"Time to get up Meg," she mumbled, reaching for her covers and beginning to make her bed. Meg grumbled quietly. "Meg," Sara groaned, "Get up. You've got your first day of kindergarten today."

More mumbles emitted from beneath Meg's covers. "What time is it?"

"6:00." Sara stated, smoothing her blankets and fluffing her pillow for good measure. It was a habit, fluffing her pillow, almost like the more comfortable she was, the better her dreams would be. She then picked up the clothes set out on her end table and entered the closet to change. She had showered the previous night and set out her clothes for school the next day. It was a simple red long sleeved shirt and jeans. She was there to do well in school, not become popular.

When she exited the closet, Meg was still curled up under the covers, snoring quietly.

"Meg!" Sara exclaimed. "Everyone else is getting up. You have to too." She snatched the covers off Meg, a wave of cool morning air blowing around the room because of the action. Meg shivered and pulled her knees up to her chest against the cold.

"Okay…" she mumbled. "I'm up…"

"I'm not leaving until you make your bed."

"Fine," She did as she was told, making her bed so sloppily, Sara felt the need to do more than to help her tuck the corners in and smooth the covers. "Mom said it's not nice to wake people up when they don't want to wake up." Meg managed to comment.

"That was before you started school. Go get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs." Sara swung her bookbag filled with brand new school supplies, over her shoulder. She loved new school supplies, the way they smelled, the way their crispness felt when you opened them or used them for the first time.

Sara tiptoed past the many cars littering the hallway and the stairs, to smell the savory aroma of pancakes.

"Jill?" she called, peeking into the kitchen. It wasn't Jill; it was Derek, apron on over his dark clothing, flour leaving white dust all over him even with the cover.

"Hey Sara," Derek called brightly, swerving pancake batter over a pan.

"I didn't know you cooked." Sara stated.

"I'm in charge of cooking breakfast and getting everyone out the door for school. Now that you're here though, I won't have as much trouble." He set the skittle on the oven, then tossed Sara an apron.

"I can't cook."

"That's too bad. Come on, keep an eye on this pancake for me, I'll set the table. I already got Mike and Taylor up. Did you wake up Meg?"

Sara nodded, poking at the half-cooked pancake with a spatula Derek had been using.

"Great, they should all be down here in about an hour."

"An hour?" Sara exclaimed.

"I'm just kidding. They're not _that_ lazy." A sheepish grin spread across Derek's face as he set plates and bottles of syrup down on the table.

"Oh no!" Sara cried, when she flipped over her pancake. "I've burnt it," She frowned.

"No big deal, I'll eat that one." Derek cried. Sara raised an eyebrow at him. "I did the same thing with my first pancake; I let it go too long. It cooks really fast." He took the spatula from Sara and flipped the pancake again, showing a perfectly brown side on the opposite side, even though it had been flipped over just a second ago.

"I don't know how you do it," Sara muttered, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Takes practice," was all Derek said.

* * *

Around 7:00, Meg, Mike, and Taylor all filed sleepily into the room. Mike and Taylor's hair were still ruffled, Meg's gray eyes seemed to have lost their fierceness, and the twins didn't seem in the slightest mood to play tricks. The three sat down at the newly set table with a little sigh each. Derek motioned for Sara to go in there and get everyone ready for when he brought in the pancakes.

Sara walked into the dining room and sat down across from the sleepy threesome. They sat in silence for a little while besides the random clattering of pots, pans, and plates in the other room.

A few minutes later, Derek burst into the room wearing a chef's hat and his apron, a platter of eggs and bacon in one hand, pancakes in the other.

"Goooood morning Nelson family!" Derek boomed like a man over the morning radio. "It's a beautiful Monday morning in September and not only that, it's the first day of school. Treat yourself to the luxurious dining of the Derek and Sara breakfast meals, complimentary for a limited time…or at least until school gets out!" He swept over to the table, plates balancing precariously.

Mike, Taylor, and Meg all seemed to perk up at the sight and smell of warm food. Derek set the platter on the table then swiped his chefs' hat off his head with an embellished bow.

"Bon Appétit,"

Meg, Mike, and Taylor dug in instantly, but Sara was only attempting to, for she was giggling in her chair too much. It felt good to laugh. She hadn't done so in a long time…a _really_ long time. She hadn't had any reason to.

The only times she really truly smiled was back when she was five. Oh yes she had 'smiled' since then, but it was a sort of false smile because deep down she was just to sad and hurt for it to be a real display of happiness. The times she 'smiled' were rare, but she did have her moments.

Over the past month, she had formed several different bonds between the different members of the family. She and Derek were always with each other, talking, contemplating. Meg was now taking up an interest in reading and staying organized like Sara. They worked daily on her vocabulary and Meg was now beginning to read several simple words. Mike and Taylor were always dragging Sara off in directions of mayhem, whether they wanted her to join them in digging up worms from the yard, or dissecting road-kill.

* * *

"_Eew! Awesome! Look Sara!" cried Mike, pointing into the middle of the road where a pancaked squirrel lay dead._

_Sara walked over, one hand placing itself on Mike's shoulder so as to keep him from running into the road._

"_Is that a dead squirrel?" inquired Taylor who had just walked up behind the two._

"_Yep, I think so." Sara replied._

"_Are you sure it's dead?" Mike asked, squinting into the road as a car rolled past._

_"Of course it's dead," Sara muttered._

_"Could you go get it Sara?" Taylor begged, tugging on her sleeve._

_"Sure," _

_Sara grabbed a stick from the curb, looked for cars, then walked out into the middle of the street. The squirrel had been flattened straight through the middle, its insides gushing out from its rear end and sides. Its head was the only thing in tact, its rotting eyes seemingly staring out from beneath the clouds of flies. Sara poked the stick through the eye and into the animal's skull. She then lifted the stick, the squirrel peeling off the ground like a piece of tape._

_Sounds of disgust and amusement were heard back on the grass as Taylor and Mike watched her remove the carcass from the road. Sara walked slowly back to the curb, careful not to let the squirrel fall off the end of the stick._

_Suddenly a disgusted cry from the porch brought the threesome's gaze towards the door._

_"Mom said you're not allowed to go in the road, or touch dead things!" cried Meg. "Mom!" she called, turning on her heel and stomping back into the house._

_Taylor rolled his eyes._

_"She's so mean."_

_Sara nodded in a silent agreement._

_"Sara, Mike, Taylor! Step away from the road! And put that dead thing down Sara!" shouted Jill from the doorstep. Meg stood gleefully, grinning broadly, arms folded in victory._

_Sara sighed and dropped the squirrel in the gutter. The three trudged back to the house._

_"We thought it was awesome Sara," Mike muttered. Taylor nodded in agreement. "Even we wouldn't have done that."_

_Sara couldn't help but grin.

* * *

_

"Hello? Earth to Sara? Are you going to eat your breakfast or not?"

Sara jumped to find everyone in the room staring at her. Derek had sat down next to her and was now waving his hand in front of her face as she recalled her memory.

"Wh-What? Oh…sorry." She ripped a forkful from her stack of pancakes and shoved it into her mouth to divert everyone's attention, though she nearly gagged on the enormous bite of food. Derek was chowing down on the burnt pancake from earlier and the three little kids were all nibbling greedily on their bacon.

Soon it was nearing 7:30 and everyone's bellies were full. Sara and Derek made sure everyone put their dishes in the sink and that there were pancakes left over for Jill and Frankie. Then the two spent the next ten minutes attempting to fit the children's backpacks on. By the time everyone was set to go, they were running late.

"Come on," Derek muttered, taking great strides down the sidewalk towards the kid's bus-stop. Sara ushered the kids along, speeding them up to keep with Derek's fast pace. There were several other children standing calmly at the stop, waiting for the bus to come pick them up. Meg and the twins instantly dashed over to a few of their friends, Meg to another girl with what looked like brand new Mary-Janes and an ironed dress. Mike and Taylor bounded up to another boy with filthy jeans and tennis shoes.

Derek and Sara walked by, giving each child a goodbye wish and ruffle of hair.

"We'll get faster once we get used to waking up for school and making breakfast." Derek muttered, slowing down a little as the tiptop of their school came into view.

They walked in silence until the parking lot for the school was in view, along with several skate-boarders using the railings. There were small clumps of other students on the sidewalks before the school, chatting casually amongst themselves, and for the first time ever, Sara felt out of place at school. She must have given off some sort of body language, because Derek looked down at her, analyzing her with his gaze.

"Don't worry," he said comfortingly, taking an arm and squeezing her shoulder in a one-armed embrace. "You'll fit in fine."

"Hey! Dare Bear!" cried one of the skateboarders, rolling up to Sara and Derek, three other's following. "How've you been?" He and Derek shared a high-five before the new boy glanced down at Sara. "Shouldn't have asked. New girlfriend? You've been doing well!"

Derek let out a laugh and Sara felt herself blush. Was she really that tall?

"Dude, she's not my girlfriend. She's my sister."

Sara blushed even harder. But she was more shocked than embarrassed. Sister? He had never called her that before, but she decided she liked the term.

"Oh," the boy seemed slightly taken aback, "New kid at your house?"

Derek nodded.

"Um, Sara, this is Todd," Derek pointed at the first skateboarding boy, "Todd, Sara,"

"Hey," He reached out and shook Sara's hand, "Sorry 'bout the mix up."

Sara smirked. She was still trying to get over the fact Derek had called her his sister.

"And these are Chris, Brian, and Dave." He pointed at each of the other boys in turn.

"Hi," Sara whispered.

"How'd you land with the Nelson's?" The boy named Brian asked. He was very pale with brown hair and blue eyes.

Sara threw a pleading glance at Derek, then remembered his words one month ago.

"I…um…I…never knew my parents."

"Oh."

"Hey Derek," said Chris, a boy with bowl-shaped blond hair and green eyes, "You want to hang out after school?"

Derek glanced down at Sara, biting his tongue nervously, but Sara didn't see what he was so nervous about.

"Uh, sure. Sure, I'll be there. Sara, you want to tell Mom where I am?"

"All right,"

"Great," He patted her head. "The bus drops Meg, Mike, and Taylor off at home so you don't have to worry about them."

The bell rang piercingly throughout the schoolyard.

"Let's go in guys," Derek muttered, taking great strides to the building. The four skateboarders followed, pushing themselves along forcefully.

Sara stood where she was for a few more moments. Sister? Really? Did he really think of her as a sister now? Sara began following quietly, kicking gravel out of her way as she walked.

It was the first time she ever considered Derek to be a brother.


	9. Part Two: Chapter Four

**Part Two: Chapter Four**

_**September 23, 1985**_

"Hey! Derek! Come on!" Todd called, rolling steadily down the sidewalk on his skateboard.

Derek and Sara stood side by side in front of the school building, Derek frantically attempting to fit his helmet on, and Sara earnestly whispering with him.

"Could you please not go?" she asked pleadingly. "You go with them every day! You don't have to give me anything for my birthday, just walk home with me!"

Derek finally buckled his helmet, sighed, and put his foot on his skateboard.

"I'm sorry Sara, but this is _me_ time. I'm just going to go hang out for a bit and get your present."

"But you don't need to get me anything if—"

"I know. I promise I'll be home by dinner time, all right?"

Sara sighed. "Promise?"

"You bet," He winked at her then sped away after the other boarders.

Sara rolled her eyes. He always went away with his friends after school, even if it was her birthday. She quickly opened her backpack and pulled out a candy-bar one of her teachers had given her for her birthday, then began nibbling at it slowly, hoping it would make the whole trip home. Then she zipped her pack and began walking.

It was as if during the summer, weekends, and school mornings all he has is family, but after school, only his friends exist. Sara kicked an empty can out of her way as she walked. He couldn't even leave his friends for her birthday. But then again, maybe she was the one being unreasonable. Sure, it was her birthday, but Derek was 16, maybe he needed his independence more than Sara could understand.

Her house came into view through the trees and she quickened her pace. Meg and the twins would at least give her a warm happy birthday greeting.

She opened the door and entered the house to find Mike and Taylor playing a video game and Meg attempting to read quietly in a corner, making up words to fill in the blanks of ones she couldn't read. They all looked up when Sara entered and chorused "Happy Birthday Sara!"

Sara grinned.

* * *

"Now are you sure he said by dinner?" Jill asked Sara sternly as she placed the day's birthday dinner on the table.

"Yes I'm sure. He promised."

"Maybe he didn't know what time we'd be eating exactly." Frankie added, stuffing a hotdog in his mouth afterward.

"Or maybe he couldn't find you the perfect gift." Jill muttered, sitting down next to Sara. "Don't worry," she whispered in Sara's ear. "He'll get here when he gets here and then I'll have a talk with him."

Sara sat hunched over, head drooping in anger and disappointment.

Mike and Taylor seemed to sense her feelings from across the table and Taylor chimed in after swallowing some french-fries, "Sara, do you want to play hide and seek with Mike, Meg and me after cake and presents?"

Sara smiled slightly, "Sure Taylor, I'd…I'd like that."

"But wait," Jill exclaimed to the twins. "Don't you remember our little present for Sara?"

"Oh yeah," Mike muttered, shrinking back into his seat.

"We're going somewhere after eating Sara; you can play when we get back."

Sara was curious as to what Jill had planned, but she turned back to her dinner instead of questioning, something she hardly ever did.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Sara questioned as Jill drove down a long curvy road.

"You'll see." She'd been saying that the past half-hour they'd been driving alone together. Sara was sitting in the front seat of the car, holding a new book she had received from the twins and Meg. They had kept all their pennies to buy it for her, and the look on their faces when the saw Sara's face as she opened the gift was priceless.

Another fifteen minutes later, the ocean came into view in front of them. Sara's mouth opened in shock. The beach? Right about now, she was confused as to whether she should be happy or sad, One of her only happy memories, her and her parents going to the beach. The memory: happy. Her parents: sad.

Jill seemed to sense her confusion.

"Are you all right?"

Sara stuttered, "Ye—yeah, I just…wish Derek would get home."

Jill pulled the car onto the side of the road.

"Where's the parking lot?" Sara asked, opening the car door and stepping out.

"On a nice day like today the regular beaches will be full and I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Oh," Sara and Jill walked over towards the sand. When the reached it the stood quietly, staring out at the rolling and curling waves, frothing white foam and pulling sand back and forth. The sunset was leaving a rosy hue over everything and for a period of time, Sara felt relaxed, soothed, and at peace.

They stared out over the ocean together in silence for what seemed like hours even though they were just a few minutes. The only things that were important in the world was that the ocean keep curling and frothing, that the sun kept shining over the water, and that the wind kept blowing a cool breeze through their hair.

"Sara," Jill began, interrupting the peaceful silence. "There's something I brought you out here to talk about."

Sara sat down on the sand and crossed her legs, listening. Jill sat down next to her and followed her gaze towards the water. They were silent for a while longer before Jill spoke.

"Now, I don't want you to get all excited because it's not official yet," Jill continued. "Your father—I mean…Frankie and I…we've taken a long time to discuss this, we've had you for more than a year, and there haven't been any problems."

Sara could see a mirage of her father's old car pulling up alongside the road.

"We've…"

Sara could see her five-year-old form running through the sand towards the ocean.

"Decided…"

Sara saw herself gazing out at the ocean, gaping at its majesty.

"That we…"

Her father scooped her up in his arms and headed for the water, her arms spread out as though she thought she might fly.

"Would like to adopt you."

Sara's heart was in her throat and right then and there, it burst, causing Sara to cry onto her knees. She hadn't cried about anything for a long time, not since that one day a year ago and her old sessions with Clara. She hadn't even cried when the Nelson's brought her to court to testify and not when she went to her counselors once a month, but now as her emotions came to a head she cried and cried and cried.

Jill placed an arm around her and whispered lovingly, "You and Meg will be sharing the same room you are now. She'll grow looking up to you Sara, and Mike and Taylor too!"

Sara wiped her eyes forcefully, trying to clear the memories out of her sight.

"I promise Derek will be home when we get back. I told you you'd attach to him almost right away. You two are inseparable."

"During the summer," Sara muttered angrily. She was angry with Derek and she didn't feel like talking about him.

"No, Sara." Jill replied, "He cares about you and you know that."

"I know I know, but…I just…He can't even make it to my birthday on time."

Jill sighed and looked at the ocean instead of Sara.

"Do you want to go home?" she asked.

"You go to the car. I'll be there in a few minutes." Sara muttered, drying her face on her shirt quickly.

Jill stood up and did as was requested, starting the car and letting it sit and rumble while Sara walked slowly towards the water, kicking her socks and shoes off on the way. The water continued to curl and froth and twist, leaving driftwood and seaweed up on the shore. Sara walked through the sand, feeling the coolness between her toes. She just wanted to stand ankle-deep in the water, just once, to see if the happy memory was even real.

She stepped into the water and sighed slightly, a strange symbolic change taking over her, for the water…was cold.

* * *

"Ready Sara? Come on!" cried Meg, bounding up to Sara as she and Jill entered. Sara grinned slightly and allowed Meg to grab her hand and pull her up the stairs.

"Is Derek back yet?" she could hear Jill asking Frankie who shook his head, his normally laughing eyes glazed over in worry.

Sara watched them over her shoulder as she was dragged along until the were out of her sight.

Mike and Taylor were standing in the middle of the hallway, taking turns trying to climb up the walls. When the spotted Sara, they both shouted greetings.

"I call counting first." Meg declared bossily.

"You can barely count past 25!" Taylor pointed out.

"I can too! Twenty-five, elevendy-six elevendy-seven," counted Meg, clapping her hands over eyes.

Sara quickly and quietly sprung on tiptoes down the hallway. She'd just play with the little kids until Derek got home. His room was right in front of her and Meg could say '100' whenever she liked seeing as how she couldn't count past 25.

Sara opened the door to reveal a perfectly kept room with a dark blue and black theme. She had never been in here before, so she clung to the walls and scooted to her right towards the bed. She'd just hide under there. He wouldn't even know.

She could hear Meg's booming little voice shouting the wrong numbers so Sara took a nosedive under the foundation of the bed. Instantly a horrid plant-like sort of stench reached her nose and she wrinkled it. Sara squinted around in the semi-darkness, trying to find the source of the smell. What could possibly smell _that_ bad in _this_ room? She reached her hands around her and it met with a big black bag.

Sara tugged it out from under the bed and looked inside. Inside, it looked like a bag of dirt from outside, a mix between dry grass clippings and…well, dirt. Why the heck would Derek have dirt in his room? It disgusted Sara. He said his room was spotless. Well, having a bag of dirt under your bed certainly wasn't spotless.

"I better take this to Ji—Mom." Sara muttered under her breath.


	10. Part Two: Chapter Five

Part Two: Chapter Five

_**September 23, 1985**_

The dining room was fixated in an anxious hush, a quiet so intense Sara thought she might burst. Jill and Frankie stood side by side against the wall, Jill's hands on her hips, Frankie's thick arms folded. Sara sat uncomfortably at the dining room table along with Meg, Mike, and Taylor. Mike and Taylor were fidgeting silently and Meg was apparently trying to look at her nose as her legs swung back and forth.

Sara broke the silence with a quick, soft, sigh, leaning back in her chair as she did so. The others turned their gazes to her for an instant then turned back to their previous activities. Sara looked down at her hands, listening to the gentle, quiet, tick-tock of the kitchen clock. Suddenly, the phone rang, startling everyone out of their silent trance.

"I'll get it," mumbled Jill in a low, dangerous voice not at all her normal one. She walked out of the room towards the kitchen, where the phone was located.

Frankie sighed heavily and seemed to droop somewhat where he leaned against the wall.

Sara listened intently to hear the conversation in the next room.

"Yes this is…Of course…Yes…Oh-no…We…Yes of course but…Yes…Yes…All right…We'll be right there." A click signaled the end of the call and Jill swept back into the room. She whispered something quickly to Frankie, who listened with a nod or whisper here or there, then resumed her roost at the wall, staring threateningly around the table.

"I have something your father and I would like to show you." she hissed. She bent down to the ground, the next second returning with the black bag Sara found earlier.

"Did any of you know about this?" Frankie asked sternly, his normally laughing eyes dark and menacing. They shook their heads.

"What is it?" Meg asked curiously, attempting to get a better look.

"It's something very, very naughty." Jill muttered, taking a hand and gently pushing Meg's interested nose away from the bag. "It's called 'weed' or 'pot' and I don't want _any_ of you to _ever_ come near something like this."

The silence presumed.

"Who was on the phone?" Sara managed to ask softly, staring unblinkingly at the black bag, the bag she found, the bag of dirt that was causing so much trouble for being such a trivial thing at first sight.

Jill's eyes seemed to take on yet another appearance and she croaked, looking away from Sara, "That was the ER. They have Derek in intensive care. He was in a car accident."

"What!" Sara shouted.

"We're going to the police station to get rid of this bag then we're going straight to the hospital." Frankie grunted in a not-nearly-as-cheery-as-normal voice.

* * *

Their small van pulled into the dark hospital parking lot. Jill and Frankie exited instantly, each grabbing hold of one of the twins' hands. Sara grabbed Meg's and they entered the tall white building together.

Sara hated hospitals. They always brought back horrid memories of her past. Every whitewashed wall brought back memories and every whiff of bleach brought back more. Her grip tightened on Meg's hand and the little girl squeezed back nervously.

Jill and Frankie continued to hold onto Mike and Taylor (Probably so they wouldn't run off in opposite directions) as they walked up through the waiting room and straight to the secretary's desk.

"We're here to see 'Derek Nelson'." Jill said clearly, articulating every word with a special hint of anger. "He was involved in a car crash this evening."

The secretary, who was rather old with glasses and a flower-patterned dress, licked her finger and began paging through documents.

"Derek…" she mumbled to herself. "Derek Keller…Derek Hanson…Ah, Derek Nelson. He's in room 154, recovering from several fractures and a concussion. I'll call the doctor and ask him if you can visit." She picked up the phone by her side and quickly dialed a queue of numbers. She spoke quickly, then hung up with a brisk "Good-bye Doctor,"

"You can go see him." was all she said before turning to the person behind them.

Mr. and Mrs. Nelson dragged Mike and Taylor along, their strides large, and the twins jogging to keep up. Sara and Meg followed quietly as the others stormed down the hallway. When the reached room 154, Frankie knocked roughly then swung the door open, striding quickly into the room. Sara and Meg caught up with them and peeked around the corner of the door.

Sara had to gulp back a gasp when she saw what lay inside. Derek was lying on a white bed, casts over his right leg and left arm, his eyes closed. An IV was in his arm and a monitor was beeping steadily next to him. Frankie and Jill were standing side-by-side, arms around each other as they looked down at their son. Mike and Taylor, for once, were quietly sitting in a corner, and Sara and Meg went to join them.

Derek didn't move, his eyes remaining closed, the monitor continuing to beep steadily. Jill reached out to his hand and stroked it gently, as though hoping he would wake up. He didn't.

Hours of anxiety passed, the atmosphere much the way it was in the dining room back home. Mike, Taylor, and Meg, proceeded to several games of rock paper scissors. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson switched places by Derek's bedside and a chair next to Sara. At approximately midnight, a tall doctor opened the door into the room, startling everyone out of their activities.

"Hello, I'm doctor Maag. I'd like to speak with the parents please."

Frankie and Jill shared a glance, then followed the doctor out of the room. Meg and the twins were asleep and Sara was still sitting quietly in the chair she first sat in. The room was still deafeningly silent besides the beeping of the monitor. Suddenly, just as Sara was beginning to nod off, Derek's hand flexed.

"Derek?" Sara whispered, not wanting to wake the others.

He didn't respond.

She strode up to him and placed a hand on his, caressing it gently, praying for him to wake up. A few minutes later, Derek's eyes fluttered open weakly and he managed to mumble a "Sara,"

Sara beamed. At least he was awake now.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"For what?"

"For missing your birthday. I should have listened to you."

"It's no big deal. There's something more important."

Derek's face seemed riddled with confusion.

"I found…umm…some 'weed' Mom called it."

Derek looked startled.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sara muttered quietly, "They say you're going to go away as soon as you're better but—"

"No, no." Derek hissed, "Did you just call her 'Mom'?"

"Oh…" Sara blinked. "Yeah, yeah I did."

"But about my…you know…the bag."

"I'm really sorry. We were playing hide-and-seek and I didn't know and—"

Derek raised his hand to touch hers and quieted her.

"Don't be sorry. I should be sorry."

Sara looked away, then back again. "How did the accident happen?"

"My friends had been drinking. I didn't though so I was the only one who buckled up.' He closed his eyes. "I'm also the only one who lived."

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered.

"Don't be."

* * *

The family spent several more hours in the hospital, Sara switching between Derek's side, the chair, and sleep, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson taking turns with restroom escorts, Mike and Taylor being strangely quiet, and Meg attempting to read the magazines.

At 5:00 a.m., Frankie came back from taking Mike to the bathroom.

"Sara, could you come here please," he muttered in a grave voice as Mike walked over to Taylor's side.

Sara stood up and walked over to him, pondering what he could possibly want her for that was so solemn. He gripped her arm and pulled her gently outside of the room and into the hallway.

"Now Sara," he began, still quite un-cheerful. "There's something wrong with Derek."

"No, really?" she muttered sarcastically. He glared at her, his beady eyes definitely not laughing. "Sorry…"

"It's all right. Sometimes it's best to make a laugh out of things, but not things this serious. Derek has internal bleeding. He needs surgery."

"What can I do to help?" Sara asked.

"You see…the thing is, this surgery costs a lot of money; money we don't have."

"You need help earning the money?"

"Well, you see, it'd be easier for us to get the money if…" He trailed off quietly

"If what?" Sara asked.

"If we didn't have as many kids to take care of."

Sara blinked.

"We received a call from somebody, a relative of yours."

"Relative?" Sara couldn't think of any of her relatives right off the bat.

"Your Aunt…Emily I think she said her name was, and your Uncle—"

"Leroy," Sara muttered, disgust etching her words. The last time she saw Uncle Leroy and Auntie Em was one night when she was nine and her Dad brought her to their house to watch the game. It really was a trash heap, beer bottles everywhere, the floor a giant crumb pile from all the chips her uncle ate. Auntie Em was a small, sharp, yet frail woman who spent most, if not all, of her time attempting to tend the house, whether it be by clearing her husband's table to set down some fresh food, or vacuuming his chair when he actually showed signs of movement (a.k.a. using the restroom).

"Right, your Uncle Leroy." Frankie fell silent as a squad of nurses passed. When they were gone, he spoke up again. "They contacted your mother in jail. She wants you to go live with them."

"What!" Sara exclaimed. Live with Leroy and Em? No! They lived in a pigsty! Yes, the Nelson's did too, but it wasn't dirt that was the problem, it was the toys that littered the ground. You could easily just kick them out of your way, but at her aunt and uncle's house, the crumbs on the floor caused an uneasy feeling as you made your way through the house. Uncle Leroy was fat, lazy, and bossy, and Auntie Em was submissive, tall, thin, and wispy, always falling into Leroy's commands. When Sara was there, she was curious as to whether or not Auntie Em actually had a say in their marriage.

"There's something else you should know. Your mother wants to meet with you, at the jailhouse."

"Meet with me?" Sara asked disbelievingly.

"Yes Sara, meet with you."

Sara glanced down to the ground then back up to Frankie again.

"When am I leaving?"

Frankie sighed, "Tomorrow. We need the money as soon as possible and Leroy and Emily want you right away."

"Tomorrow?" Sara cried.

"You'll have time to say good-bye and pack and everything. The meeting with your mom is a week later."

He leaned forward and gave her a tight squeeze.

"We'd really like to keep you, we really would, but if you don't go, Derek will die."

Sara gulped as the words hit her. _'If you don't go, Derek will die' _

"I'm going to miss you," She gulped as that stupid lump crept its way up her throat.

Frankie continued to hold her, remaining silent for what seemed like minutes. It took Sara a few seconds to figure out that Frankie, a grown man, was crying on her shoulder. Sara returned the hug and allowed a single tear to fall.

"I'm going to miss you too." he finally sniffed, "We're all going to miss you."

**End Part Two**


	11. Part Three: Chapter One

**Part Three: Chapter One**

_**September 24, 1985**_

Sara gathered up the last of her books and clothes and placed them roughly into her duffel bag, something she had hoped she wouldn't have to use ever again. After the very last book and the very last sock were shoved angrily into the bag, Sara lay down on the bed, arms and legs spread out over the covers. She took in several deep, satisfying breaths in hopes of gathering the scent of the house she called home forever.

"Sara?" came a small whisper from the doorway.

Sara let out a sigh and mumbled, "Hello Meg."

She heard the door close and small footsteps draw near to the neatly made bed she lay on.

"Are you done packing?" Meg asked quietly, her gray eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. Sara turned on her side and placed her hands under her head with another sigh.

"Yeah, I am."

"Are you really going?"

Sara sighed again, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them once more.

"Yeah, I'm really going."

Then, quite unexpectedly (and quite out of her nature), Meg let out a loud wail, climbed onto the bed and gave Sara a tight squeeze. Sara lay frozen as Meg howled her protests about her departure.

"They can't do it! They can't! I don't want you to go! I don't want you to _go_!"

"Meg…"

"They can't! I won't let them! I don't want you to go!"

"Meg."

"You're not going! I'll make sure of it! You can't go!"

"Meg!" Sara shouted, sitting upright suddenly so that Meg rolled down to the edge of the bed. She sat up then sniffled quietly as Sara calmed down.

"I can't help going, and nothing you do is going to stop me from leaving. I have to."

Meg sniffed loudly then asked, "Will you come visit? Sometimes?"

"I'll try, I really will."

She sniffed once more then crawled up to Sara and hugged her again, gentler this time.

"I still don't want you to go."

Sara patted her tenderly on the back.

"I don't want to either."

* * *

"Bye Sara!" called Mike, Taylor, and Meg in unison as the van with Sara and Frankie inside began rolling away down the street. Mike and Taylor suddenly broke out in a run and dashed as fast as their eight-year-old legs would carry them, Meg soon joining the race. Sara craned her neck to watch them try to keep up with the van, but as it turned a corner, her three siblings disappeared from sight. 

She turned her head to the front window and stared out it in silence. She could feel Frankie throwing glances at her as he drove down the sunlit street.

"You all right?" he asked after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

Sara nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Sara nodded again.

"It's okay to not be all right you know."

She nodded once more.

Frankie went silent for several more minutes.

"So what do you know about these relatives of yours?" he asked quietly, clearing his throat mid-sentence.

"Auntie Em is quiet and thin and submissive, Uncle Leroy is big and fat and bossy. Auntie Em spends all her time trying to clean and Uncle Leroy spends all his time trying to make it as difficult for her to do so."

Frankie went silent again.

"You're not going to like it there much are you?"

"No, not really."

* * *

"This is it," Frankie declared unnecessarily, pulling up alongside a one-story building with a front lawn growing steadily more decrepit and brown. Sara could have recognized it anywhere without Frankie's help. The van suddenly stopped rumbling as Frankie turned it off. 

"You ready to go in?"

Sara nodded curtly.

Frankie then opened his door, walked over to Sara's side of the vehicle, and opened her door for her. Sara stepped out tenderly, placing her foot upon the curb. Frankie reached in for her duffel bag and backpack, handing it to her seconds later. Sara took them with a quiet 'Thank you,' and began walking slowly up to the front steps. As she and Frankie neared, a thin wispy, bathrobe covered figure appeared in the doorway: Auntie Em.

She was tall and thin underneath her sheets of robes. Her frizzy brown hair was pulled into a sloppy bun at the back of her head, the stray gray hairs flying out in every which direction. She had weary looking gray eyes, like Meg's, but Meg's were more lively and happy looking.

"Auntie Em…" Sara mumbled quietly.

"Don't speak to me with that tone young lady. You should be mighty glad we're offering to take you in instead of sending you off to another barrage of foster homes." Her voice was twitchy and unpleasant. Sara felt the extreme urge to mutter something along the lines of 'I'd rather take the foster homes,' but held her tongue, no matter how hard it pained her.

"You must be Mr. Nelson." Em continued, looking Frankie up and down with her somnolent eyes.

"Hello there," he muttered uneasily, glancing down at Sara with her head hanging, eyes staring fixedly on the ground. He held out his large hand for a shake but Em retreated to staring him in the eye.

"I dare say there's no more need for you here. You can leave, before I call the police."

Frankie's mouth hung open in astonishment.

"Uh…Sara, be a good girl all right?" He bent down slightly and gave her a hug. Sara returned it quietly.

"All right, inside now Sara. I've got to show you around."

Sara broke out of the hug first, giving Frankie's hand a squeeze, which he returned, before walking away into the house under Auntie Em's ushering. The door was slammed behind her as the horrid stench of cigars, alcohol, and a just plain dirty home reached Sara's nose. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, only to suddenly receive a smack on the back of the head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, flinching and placing a hand where she was hit a moment before.

"Don't you dare act snobbish in this house. It's not like we don't _try_ to keep it clean." Em snapped. Sara had never seen her raise her voice to anybody before, more so her hand. Maybe it was because Auntie Em felt she could overpower Sara, since she was younger. After all, the household _was _run on dominance.

"Your bedroom is down this way," Em snapped, walking down a hallway to the right. Sara followed quickly, still furiously rubbing the spot she had been hit.

Em opened the door at the very end of the hallway, revealing a musky room with ugly brown carpeting and a mattress on the floor. A small box of baby toys sat in one corner of the room, an empty bookcase in the other, and a small closet in the final one.

"This is your room. I want you out in the kitchen at 5:00 to help me make dinner."

"Where's Uncle Leroy?" Sara asked, looking towards her aunt.

"He's at work."

"He works?"

"Go on!" She hit Sara on the back of the head again, causing Sara to exclaim in pain for a second time, stumbling forward into the room.

"Hey!"

"5:00! Don't forget!" and she left, slamming the door roughly behind her.

Sara rubbed her head again. She was definitely going to feel that in the morning. She proceeded to hanging her clothes up in the closet and placing her books neatly in the bookcase. After the round of organizing, she gazed down at the insulting box of baby toys, later ensuing to dump them in a garbage can. When she was done, she set the alarm clock by her bed…mattress…to five o' clock and went to sleep, the eminent bruise on the back of her head leaving her to feel quite uncomfortable.


	12. Part Three: Chapter Two

**Part Three: Chapter Two**

_**October 1, 1985**_

A sudden, loud, persistent beeping filled Sara's bedroom, rousing her groggily from her sleep. Sara rubbed her eyes, sat up on her bed, and began reaching around for the clock to turn the infernal beeping off. She found it within a few seconds and pressed the button with a small slap of her hand. The beeping stopped suddenly and Sara, however much she hated to, swung her legs off the side of the mattress and prepared to get up.

After she made her bed, got dressed, and brushed her teeth, she grabbed her backpack from the edge of the mattress and headed for the kitchen to help make breakfast as she had done every morning since her arrival.

Auntie Em was busy sweeping around the stove, frying eggs here, pouring orange juice there, when Sara walked into the room. She stood motionless, waiting for Em to notice her presence before she set about doing any work. When Em was moving to flip an omelet, as requested by Uncle Leroy, she spotted Sara standing in the room.

"Have you been standing there watching me the whole time? Go on, set the table, be of some use."

Sara set her backpack down against the chair she sat in at meal times and took over making the sausages and toast.

"Don't forget, we're meeting Laura today so you had better not be late to the office building, you hear? Remember you're taking a taxi."

Sara nodded, taking a couple slices of bread out of the toaster then putting some fresh ones back in. Then she prepared to take the prepared sausages to the table before Leroy thought it fit to get up.

"There's a note on the table for you to take to the school office. They'll get you an outside permit for half the day. Go and take it,"

Sara set the platter of greasy sausages down on the counter and walked slowly over to the table where a note labeled "Office," resided. Sara reached out to it and flipped open the top to read what lay inside.

Dear Highschool Office Staff,

My niece Sara highly wishes to meet her biological mother for a nice chat. During the school-hours are the only open times and I would wish you to excuse her from her afternoon classes.

As you have most likely had your attention brought to, Sara's mother is a deranged killer who stabbed her husband to death last summer. Sara has not seen her since and wishes to do so.

Emily Ronaway

Sara stood frozen in her place, staring at the highly offending note. She wished dearly to go meet her mom? Well, not really, seeing as how she _killed her father_. Sara angrily stuffed the note into her pocket as Em called her to finish setting the table.

* * *

"Please open your books class to page 432. " droned Ms. Wither dully, standing from her place at her desk, and sweeping out to the front of the classroom.

The class bustled as it attempted to fill out the command. Sara bent over to reach underneath her desk for her textbook, when a quick crinkle and flutter signaled that a piece of paper had come out from her pocket. Sara gaped at the slip of paper that she had oh so angrily placed in her pocket this morning.

"Sara?" the teacher drawled in an old, scratchy record sort of way. "Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Sara quickly sat up straight in her chair, staring fixedly ahead at the board. If she could only just get that paper…

She stretched her foot to reach the paper on the floor, but it came up just short.

"Sara!" Ms. Wither snapped, "What's got you so squirmy that you must desist from sitting still?"

"Sorry…"

"Sorry doesn't cut it. If I catch you again, I'm sending you to the office."

Sara felt herself blush profusely, but that wasn't going to stop her from getting that condemning note. If a kid here found it, she would never get over it. As a final attempt, she whispered to Emma Hammond.

"Emma,"

The small quiet girl looked at her.

"Could you hand me that piece of paper on the floor?" Sara asked softly, pointing down at it.

Emma followed Sara's finger to the paper and picked it up off the ground. Sara could feel herself sweating slightly in hope Emma wasn't the nosy type. Thankfully, Emma proceeded to handing Sara the note.

"Sara Sidle!" snapped Ms. Wither for yet another time. "Notes now?" She swept over to Sara's desk-side, hand held out for the slip of paper.

"I wasn't passing…" Sara tried to explain.

"Nonsense, I saw you do it. And I thought better of you Emma. Now give me the note."

Sara nervously held the paper in her left hand, but when Ms. Wither attempted to grab it, Sara held fast.

"Please, I wasn't, I wasn't passing. It was for the office. I dropped it."

"Let go of the paper Sara. It can't be that bad." Ms. Wither snatched the paper from Sara's grasp with a final snatch.

"No! Please! Don't read it!" Sara had spent the past year trying to forget the event ever occurred, making up lies for people, and now it was this stupid teacher's fault that all that work was going to go to waste.

Ms. Wither cleared her throat and flipped the note open, reading loudly for the class to hear, and so quickly, she wouldn't have time to slow down if she got to a point she shouldn't read. Sara sat hunched over in her desk, hair falling down around her face, hoping it would help her disappear.

"Dear Highschool Office Staff," Ms. Wither began, loudly and clearly. Sara flinched with every word. "My niece Sara highly wishes to meet her biological mother for a nice chat. During the school hours are the only open times and I would wish you to excuse her from her afternoon classes."

Sara squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the next sentence that was more than likely condemning her to a lifetime of rejection. Ms. Wither was beginning to slow down a little but she continued reading the note aloud.

"As you have most likely had your attention brought to, Sara's mother is a deranged killer who stabbed her husband to death last summer. Sara has not seen her since and wishes to do so."

Sara's stomach was in knots as several loud gasps and mutterings filled the room. She could feel the eyes of every student in the classroom on her. The air went silent after the mutterings had passed and Sara stood up so she was eye level with the teacher. Instantly, more whispers broke out.

"Are you satisfied?" Sara mumbled, snatching the paper from the dumbfounded teacher's hands.

"I'm sorry Sara,"

"Save it."

And Sara, held-back tears causing a couple of sobs to escape, left the classroom.

* * *

"Where are you headed?" asked the taxi driver in a gruff voice.

Sara entered the vehicle, tear-stained face furiously wiping itself on her backpack as she sat down.

"451 South Baker Street, please."

The taxi took off down the street, passing by rows and rows of buildings.

"Are you all right?" the cab driver asked sympathetically, catching sight of Sara's wet face. "What's got a nice girl like you all worked up?"

"My business."

"I know, but it never didn't help to tell someone about it, someone who'd understand." He had a strange accent, a friendly, cheery sort of laughter in it, like Frankie's, but different.

"It doesn't matter. The whole school will know about it by lunchtime anyway." Sara mumbled angrily.

"Then how about telling an old black man who's a little bit down on his luck, about how _you're_ down on _your_ luck."

Sara looked at the man with his graying curly black hair, his double chin, and his large body that took up one fourth of the vehicle.

"I really, would prefer not talking about it."

"Aw come on. I can't tell anyone, and more so anyone who'd give a care."

Sara sighed, gazing out the window at the passing houses. "All that happened was a very private note that I was supposed to give to the school office slipped out of my pocket in class and the teacher read it aloud."

"Medical condition?" the man questioned, turning the car up in front of a large building and stopping.

"Family situation." Sara answered vaguely.

* * *

"Now I want you to be on your best behavior. You will be polite. No being curt, use manners. She may be in jail, but she's still your mother!" Em snapped, milling about a small cubicle, putting up post-it notes here, taking them down there. Sara stood quietly outside the compartment, hands in her pocket, her face thankfully dry now.

"And most of all no eye-rolling."

"Yes Auntie Em." Sara muttered, looking around the office filled with booths similar to Em's.

"And don't take any tones with her either."

"Yes Auntie Em," Sara muttered more distractedly.

"And do try to act like it never happened. She wants to know what's going on with you."

"Yes Auntie Em," Sara mumbled once more.

"Hurry up, out with you. We have to get there on time. You were _late_." Em swept past Sara who then trailed behind, briskly walking in order to keep up.

"I'm sorry."

"Did you get the note to the office on time?"

The note. The words echoed through Sara's head. She was sure she was going to be facing torment tomorrow at school. Not many kids could get away with having a murdered father, much less one who was murdered by his own wife.

"Sara?" Em inquired sharply, noticing that Sara had stopped short.

"Sorry,"

"No daydreaming either."

"Yes Auntie Em," She began ambling after her again.

* * *

Auntie Em's old rickety car pulled up into a gravel parking lot, nearly empty except for a car or two here or there. Sara was sitting silently in the front seat of the car, legs tucked underneath her, arms folded across her chest, backpack underneath her seat.

"We're here," Em muttered, gesturing at a twenty-foot high fence with barbed wire draping its top. A towering, castle-like structure lay beyond the fence and Sara knew that was where she was going and where her mother had been for the past year. As Em grasped Sara's arm forcefully and began trudging up to the building, Sara realized that she needed closure. She had often sat in bed at night, trying to come up with reasons for why her mother decided to do it, why she thought to so precariously throw her life away. Sara wanted to know why and how, but most of all why. Why? Why did she do it? Why did she do it to Sara, to herself?

Auntie Em walked up to the main gate of the facility.

"We have an appointment to meet with Laura Sidle. I'm her sister and this is her daughter, Sara."

The man at the desk allowed them entrance, telling them to just wait patiently in the visiting room. They did as he asked, each taking a seat in a large visiting room littered with several other women meeting people, the walls laced with stock-still security guards, standing with their arms folded, gazes staring straight ahead. Sara smiled vaguely at one of the guards as he escorted a woman in orange out of the room. He didn't smile back.

Soon, the clanking of heavy-duty keys fitting inside a heavy-duty lock reached Sara's ears and she perked up, eager to see who lay behind this door. As it swung open, she only saw someone who made her stomach turn: her mother.

"Sara," she whispered, unable to contain a smile that was spreading across her face. "Oh sweetheart, it's been so long." The guard took his place against the wall as all the others had done, and Laura swept over to Sara, embracing her tightly. Sara fought with her own head. Should she return the hug? Was she deserving of her daughter's love?

"Oh my goodness Sara, look how big you've gotten. You could be mistaken for sixteen."

Sara chuckled slightly to herself. She_ had_ been mistaken for sixteen back on her first day of school the previous year. Laura finally let go of her and sniffed, for numerous tears were streaming down her dirty face.

"Oh honey, I've missed you so much."

Sara smiled dimly.

"Thank you, for bringing her here Em." Laura muttered, acknowledging for the first time that Em was even here.

"It's good to see you again." Em muttered in a monotone. "Sara, I'll be waiting out in the car."

Sara and Laura watched her leave, Laura eventually taking her deserted seat.

"So, how's everything been? How are you? You look…troubled."

Sara sighed and looked away, remaining silent, looking as if she was in her own little world.

"Look, Sara," Laura began, "I know I wasn't a very good mother outside of prison, but I want to make it up to you. I really do. But you have to let me. I want to be your 'mom', not just your 'mother'."

Sara turned her gaze back to Laura's, who appeared taken aback at the expression on Sara's face. Tears were flowing silently, a frown on her face, her large brown eyes that were her mothers own filled with grief and sorrow and humiliation.

"Honey? Why don't you start from the beginning."

"_No_, mom. _You_ start from the beginning. Why? Why did you start accusing him? He didn't do anything wrong!" Sara's voice cracked and she breathed heavily for a few moments after her quick outburst.

It was Laura's turn to be silent now. She gazed down at her hands filled with dirt and grime and fingered them as Sara had seen herself do so many times before. She was more like her mother than she would have liked to be.

"Now Sara, have you ever been in love?"

"You know what? I don't believe in love. You don't love me, Dad…I doubt Dad really loved me."

"Sara Marie Sidle, you pull yourself together right now." Laura muttered sternly. "Your father loved you, very much; you were always the light that kept him linked to our home. If you didn't exist, he would have left me a long before it happened."

Sara sat quietly, biting her lip, her fingers clenched.

"And I love you very much. We both loved you, and still do. Do you remember when you were around seven or eight?"

Sara thought back and memories upon memories bombarded her. Suddenly, one from when she was around eight years old rejuvenated itself in her mind. She was sitting in bed with her father, just talking. Her father said he loved her, and her mother.

"Yes, he said he loved me, and you too, and that you thought he didn't love you. How did you know?"

"I was behind the door listening. I liked listening to your conversations because as long as I knew he loved you, I knew he would stay."

"Why didn't you think he loved you anymore?"

"Because he was always home late."

"Why didn't you believe him when he said he was stuck at work? You knew his new job was time-consuming."

"Because I…I…" Laura trailed off and looked around. Sara watched her earnestly, waiting for an answer. It never came.

"Mom, that night, what was different about that night. You had all those other nights to kill him. Why'd you wait?"

"I never had the guts. Never. I never even considered it until the hospital bills began piling up."

"What happened exactly?"

"Well I asked your father how his quick job was and he got hot and bothered. He started throwing things, not necessarily at me, you know, just throwing."

Sara nodded in understanding.

"Well he progressed to hitting things, not necessarily me, but just hitting things."

Sara nodded again.

"Well, I had brought the knife along in protection in case he ever did turn on me."

"Did you mean to kill him?" Sara asked quietly.

Laura let her mouth hang open for a couple of seconds before answering.

"Yes Sara, I believe that I did. I think one part of me wanted to kill him, to see him dead, to see him in pain like I had been for nearly seven years. I didn't think about you until after he was dead and you showed up in the doorway."

"Do you want to know what happened to me at school today?" Sara whispered quietly, knees brought up to her chest, arms folded over them.

"What happened to you at school today?" Laura asked.

Sara quite unexpectedly stood up from her chair and took two steps over to Laura's seat, taking a place on her mother's knee, preparing to tell Laura a story like any other normal girl whose mother wasn't in jail. She had received her closure, and she was just about ready to face tomorrow, and the day after, and many, many years to come. Laura wanted a chance to be a mom; here it was.


	13. Part Three: Chapter Three

**Part Three: Chapter Three**

_**November 9, 1985**_

A cool breeze blew through the schoolyard, an extensive plain of grass, scattered with basketball and tennis courts. Kids were playing basketball, tennis, or walking through the grass and talking. Some were sitting still on the grass, chatting away, or on a bench eating lunch with their friends and talking there.

Sara was sitting on a bench, book open in front of her face, held up with one hand, cheap corn beef sandwich in the other. She was managing to read and eat at the same time underneath the sunny afternoon sky. Sara could care less. She was too absorbed in her book to notice anything else unless it disturbed her concentration.

The past month had been a very busy, miserable one. As Sara had suspected, the news of her father spread like wildfire through the school's grapevine. There was nothing she could have done to stop it from spreading. She was helpless, like a firefighter without a hose. So instead, she sat back and accepted the stares, the whispers, and the taunts. Yes, she had been taunted, and many times wished she could take a nice heavy swing at anyone who brought it up.

She hadn't heard from anybody at the Nelson home, not one person even showed up to visit. It pained her to think about it. Didn't they care? Apparently not.

Something else that was wriggling its way into an important part of Sara's life, were her phone calls to her mother. They talked regularly, every Friday night. Em made sure Sara didn't miss a call, and Sara hadn't the slightest intention to do so ever since the visit. Sara felt Laura was the only one person who understood her, even if she was a murderer. Derek, Frankie, Jill, Meg, and the twins were long gone so she needed somebody else to explain her feelings to. She had discovered a while ago that words helped heal wounds, even if sometimes it's best to keep your mouth shut about certain things.

Uncle Leroy was making few appearances around the house. At breakfast he'd be there stuffing his face, barking orders to Em and Sara. Sara wasn't home for lunch, but when she did arrive back at the house, Leroy was lazing in his large dirty armchair watching television. Then it would be time to make dinner and they'd eat together. Leroy always asked Sara how her day went, saying he 'wanted to be a good father'. However, he always ended up criticizing how Sara handled everything she told him about. Eventually she just said her days went fine.

Sara set down the book after folding over a corner to mark her place, and reached inside her lunch bag for her bag of carrot sticks. Auntie Em didn't believe in junk food so she packed health-nut snacks for Sara to eat. As Sara opened the bag to grab a stick of vegetable, she could hear and feel some breath on her neck. She sighed heavily and moved her hand over to her book, placing a hand over it in case anybody got any ideas like her first-grade classmate had, the concept of eating her carrots gone from her mind.

"What do you want Chandler?" Sara asked exasperatedly, refusing to turn around to face the dreadfully annoying teen.

"Hey there, how you doing sweet-cheeks?"

Sara turned around in her seat and glared.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your 'sweet-cheeks'."

"Oh, but you could be my lovely lady. All you have to do is say yes."

Chandler was tall and thick muscled, always wearing the same school jacket wherever he went. He loved that jacket almost as much as he loved himself. He was also the best football player in the district. Sara had to admit, he was extremely handsome, and every normal teenagers crush, but he was dumb as a doorknob. He flunked tenth grade twice, and was so stuck-up he'd kill himself if he couldn't find a mirror every ten minutes.

Sara continued to glare at him.

"Come on baby! You are one of the prettiest girls in school, and the smartest! Okay, maybe a little nerdy when, you know, it comes to chemistry class, but hey! I'm open to variety."

Sara smirked.

"Something else you should know about us _science geeks_ Chandler, we go for brains, not brawn, and _you_ my friend are the stupidest boy in this school."

The boy stood frozen to the spot, mouth stupidly hanging open.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Sara muttered, grabbing hold of her bag lunch and standing up. She reached for the book but Chandler's thick hand snatched it from the bench.

"Hey!" Sara exclaimed.

"You want it?"

Sara rolled her eyes.

"Just give me the book."

"Just be my girlfriend."

"No, now give me my book." She reached for the book, standing on tiptoes. Chandler was 6' 2". Sara was five inches shorter than him.

"Say you'll date me."

"No!" She jumped slightly reaching for the book. "I'm not dating a doorknob who's so stuck up he can't live without his reflection."

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, letting his raised arm drop to his side. Sara took the opportunity, seizing the book and pulling it to herself.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Sara muttered menacingly. She turned on her heel and began walking away.

"At least my mom ain't in jail!"

Sara stopped dead in her tracks and spun back around.

"Excuse me?"

Chandler had a large smirk on his face, his perfect white teeth shining out at Sara in a supercilious way.

"At…least…my…mother…ain't…in…jail." he said, articulating every word with a hint of iniquity.

Sara stomped up to him, her fingers clenching so hard around her bag lunch she wasn't surprised if she had cracked all her carrots in half.

"First of all," she began, voice shaking in rage, "'ain't' is not a word. Second of all, my mother is none of your business."

Chandler's smirk was still eminent.

"Well, you know, I wouldn't much want to date the spawn of a murderer and a murder_ed_ anyway. You can't be much better than your mom can you?"

Sara, standing in shock of Chandler's boldness, glared the biggest death glare she had ever mustered. Chandler didn't falter. In fact, he began chanting a poem to the tune of the Lizzie Borden rhyme.

"Sara's mother took a knife and stole away her father's life."

"Shut up…" Sara mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

"Sara's like her mother see, Oh no! Watch out! She's gonna kill me!"

"That's a horrible rhyme." Sara muttered under her breath. "Completely lame,"

Instead of listening, he began again, and then again. A crowd was beginning to draw near and before Sara knew it, several of Chandler's cronies were chanting along with him.

"Sara's mother took a knife and took away her father's life."

"I _said_ shut up." Sara mumbled again, more warningly.

"What are you going to do, kill me?" Chandler muttered in a false high voice, pretending to act scared, the crowd continuing the chant.

Sara unrelentingly glared up at him as the chanting intensified and more students began gathering. Chandler and two of his pals broke into a sort of dance and Sara felt herself shaking. Then without warning, Sara let fly a punch, hitting as hard as she possibly could. The next second, Chandler was on the ground, blood streaming from his nose, hands over it holding tightly.

Several gasps escaped the crowd and the chanting stopped. Sara stood shaking where she was. The next moment, she had snatched up her book and lunch from the ground where she had dropped them in order to hit him, and dashed up to the school building.

* * *

Sara stood in a bathroom stall, crying quietly, although the noises echoed loudly throughout the room. She had only been in here for approximately five minutes,leaning against the wall. Suddenly, the sound of the door opening reached her ears.

"Sara?" came the voice of Ms. Wither. Sara held her breath in order to keep from letting loose a sob.

"I thought I heard you in here," the woman mumbled, slightly to herself.

Sara kept silent, moving over and sitting on the toilet, bringing her long legs up off the ground.

"Sara, I know you're in here," the teacher mumbled, stepping across the room, her high-heeled shoes clicking loudly. By mistake, Sara let out a hiccup, clapping her hands over her mouth, cursing herself for doing so. She squinted her eyes shut as the teacher's footsteps stopped.

"Sara," The teacher's footsteps began again and drew to the door of Sara's stall. "Come out Sara,"

Sara reluctantly stood up and opened the bathroom stall door. Ms. Wither was standing there, her hair drawn in a tight bun as always, her thin wiry glasses on over her pointed nose.

"Did you want something?" Sara muttered. It was this teachers fault. She was the one who allowed the note's contents to be revealed, condemning Sara to this lifetime of ridicule.

"Are you all right?"

Sara huffed.

"Have I ever been all right?"

The teacher went silent.

"I'm sorry," Sara muttered. "That was rude."

Ms. Wither grinned.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Problems at lunch with this guy."

"Oh, ex-boyfriend?"

Sara scoffed.

"I've never had a boyfriend, I don't believe in love."

"Why not?"

Sara went silent.

"I just don't."

"What happened exactly?" Ms. Wither probed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I have a right to know what happens to my students. Maybe I can help."

"I doubt it."

"Why don't we go to the classroom?" Ms. Wither muttered, standing aside for Sara to exit. Sara walked past her slowly, hands amiably in her pocket. Ms. Wither ushered her out of the bathroom and towards the class.

When they were in the classroom, Ms. Wither took a seat behind her desk, gesturing for Sara to sit in front of her. Sara did as asked, easing herself slowly into the seat.

"So what happened exactly?" Ms. Wither asked again.

Sara was quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"I was eating lunch and reading." She paused. "Then this…guy…came up behind me and started hitting on me. Totally stupid, and annoying. I told him I wasn't interested, he took my book, I got it back, then he said something about how his mom wasn't in jail." She looked around the room, anywhere but at the teacher.

"Like yours?" Ms. Wither prodded.

Sara nodded.

"Yeah, like mine."

"Then what happened?"

"He started making up this chant about it. People started joining in and I just stood there. I kind of, you know, let it happen for a little while but then I couldn't take it anymore."

"What'd you do?"

"I…uh…punched him, in the nose."

Ms. Wither smiled slightly.

"I already knew what happened, heard it from Chandler himself in the nurse's office; I just wanted your point of view."

Sara paused again, biting her lip nervously.

"I swear I've never done anything like that before, ever."

"I know,"

The room was silent.

"I'm sorry. Tell Chandler I'm sorry."

"I will Sara."

Again, everything was quiet except the tick-tock of the schoolroom clock.

"You know what Sara?" Ms. Wither exclaimed quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You're an intelligent girl. Best of your age I'd have to say."

"Thank you,"

"And you're polite, and kind, and it's a shame you have no friends."

"I have friends! Sort of…"

"You have _family_, somewhere else, about seventy miles away from here. You need _real_ friends."

"They're not _real_ family. They're a foster family."

"The point is, you need somebody here, now."

"I have my mom. I call her every week."

"You're not getting it Sara. You need somebody else. Everyone else here has friends, except for two people. _You_ are one of them."

"Who else?" Sara asked. She had never noticed anyone else sitting alone except for herself, probably because she was always reading.

"Emma Hammond."

An awkward silence ruled the room. Emma Hammond was the quiet girl that Sara had sat by for nearly half the year. She was quiet and shy, never raising her hand in class even if she knew the answer, unlike Sara who raised her hand after all comments in class, whether she wanted to ask a question or give an answer.

"You know what else I think you should consider Sara?" Ms. Wither began again.

"What?" Sara asked.

"College. No one, out of all the students in this school, do I think is more capable of succeeding in college than you."

Sara stared at her, chin resting on her fist, which was still slightly sore from the punch. Then suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Sara stood up with a quick 'See you later,' and quickly took her seat at the end of the classroom, trying to ignore the numerous stares and the wide berth people were giving her as they took their spots.

Emma sat down in her spot next to Sara, the only person who wasn't bothering to act any different around her. Sara took a deep breath, mustering up her courage, waiting for the teacher to call attention to the front of the classroom.

"Emma," she whispered finally as Ms. Wither ordered the class to copy things down from the board.

The girl looked up at her. She had short brown hair and large friendly green eyes that Sara had never noticed before.

"Do you want to come over to my house after school?"

For a fleeting second, Sara thought she saw a small grin flash across Emma's face. The girl, quite to Sara's surprise seeing as to what she herself had just done, nodded.

Sara smiled, and when she turned her face to the front of the classroom as all the other students wrote furiously, saw that Ms. Wither was smiling too.


	14. Part Three: Chapter Four

**Part Three: Chapter Four**

_**November 9, 1985**_

"Here, Emma, you just wait here on the doorstep and I'll go in and tell them your coming. Then you can call your mom or dad or whoever is…available."

"My brother," Emma mumbled quietly, hands in her pocket, eyes gazing at Sara's house.

"Your brother then," Sara opened the door into the house and looked around. Leroy was sitting in his armchair, arms splayed out on either side, bowl of chips in his lap. He was snoring quietly; Sara could see a string of drool falling down his fat cheek. She curled her lips in disgust but walked towards her uncle all the same.

"Leroy," she muttered. He didn't budge. "Leroy," she said with more emphasis.

Some quick snorts emitted from the man in the chair and he turned on his side, a loud snore released from his breath. Sara sighed and touched his shoulder with another call of his name.

Leroy jumped, then glared up at Sara.

"_What_ do you want? Why aren't you doing homework or making dinner or something?"

"I have a friend waiting outside. I was wondering if she could come in."

"And do _what_?" Leroy barked.

"Talk, I suppose. Maybe she could eat dinner with us."

"I ain't given that kid any of our food."

"Where's Em?" Sara asked.

"She's grocery shoppin' why?"

"No reason, I'm just wondering."

Leroy grunted.

"So can Emma come in then? She won't eat with us if you don't want her to."

"Fine, but don't wake me up anymore or I'll have to give you a good smack on the arm."

Sara gathered all her strength to avoid rolling her eyes and swept back over to the doorway, opened it, and called out to Emma. She was standing in the same spot as before, hands still in her pocket, her hair tucked behind her ears, green eyes still gazing at the house.

"You can come on in." Sara muttered, attempting to smile.

"Where's your phone?" Emma asked as they walked into the house.

"I'll show it to you," Sara answered as they strode past the lazing Leroy. Sara put a finger to her lips to show Emma she needed to be quiet and they tiptoed past him into the kitchen. Emma didn't stare at the dirty floor, or at her languid uncle, or anything else Sara thought any normal person would be repulsed by.

"The phone's over there in that corner." Sara whispered, pointing at the phone.

Emma thanked her and walked over to it. Sara waited patiently for Emma to complete the call as she talked in a whisper to her brother on the other end.

"All right. Goodbye" and Emma hung up. "Where are we going to go?"

"My room." Sara motioned for her to follow, stepping quietly through the kitchen towards the hallway. Emma followed just as stealthily, even trying to avoid stepping on the chip crumbs since they cracked loudly underfoot.

When they finally reached Sara's room, Emma walked in first, Sara followed, shutting the door behind her with a loud sigh of relief.

"You're lucky you were allowed in. At least I think you're lucky, unless you don't like it here. Then you're definitely not lucky. It's horribly dirty here. Leroy always gets mad when I offer to vacuum. He says one of his favorite shows will be on so I can't." Sara stuffed her hands in her pocket, feeling herself blush. She probably said too much too fast, she was just socially challenged that way. She walked over to her mattress, flopping down on it with another heavy sigh.

"So this is your room?" Emma asked quietly, looking up at the ceiling, down at the mattress, and over at the bookcase.

"Yeah, it's not much. So what's your room like?" Sara asked, placing her chin in her hands as she lay on her stomach over the blankets. Emma came over and sat down by her.

"It's a powder blue, matching blankets and pillowcase. I have a desk and a bookcase, and a pile of stuffed animals. It's clean, and organized, and horribly lonely."

Sara stared up at Emma for a second then looked away, realizing she was being rude, but she had never heard Emma say so many words in one sentence.

"Sounds better than this. I don't even have a proper bed." Sara muttered. "I've gone through three different bedrooms in my lifetime. My first went from pink, to purple to an ugly white wallpaper and green carpet. It was horrible. Then I went to pink again, shared with a little girl. Now this one." She gestured around at the room.

"Sounds stressful,"

"Yeah, at times,"

They were silent.

"So, what's your brother like?" Sara questioned.

"Oh he's wonderful. His name's Alex. He's about seventeen. My parents are never home, they work. Where are—never mind." Emma blushed and Sara knew why. She was just about to ask where her parents were.

"I had a brother…three of them, and a sister. But they weren't real, they were foster siblings."

"What were they like?" Emma asked.

"Well Derek was really nice for the first year or so, then he started hanging out with his friends to much for my liking, ended up getting into a car accident because his friends were driving drunk. I don't know what happened to him after that. Then there were Mike and Taylor, twins, really outgoing and boisterous. Finally there was Meg, annoying, bossy, and way too smart for her own good and I helped her reach that point, taught her how to read."

"That sounds nice." Emma commented.

"Yeah, it was. I miss them."

"Why'd you come here? If you don't mind me asking of course,"

"Well it was the car accident. My foster parents didn't have the money to take care of Derek's surgery so they sent me away in order to get it faster."

"Oh,"

They were both quiet again.

"I think it was really great what you did to Chandler." Emma muttered suddenly.

Sara blinked.

"It wasn't really all that great. I was out of line, way out of line."

"No you weren't, you were provoked."

Sara was quiet.

"Thanks Emma. Thanks a lot."

The girls both smiled.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, very much a filler chapter. I'll probably have another one out sometime later today or tomorrow morning.**

**I loved the chapter before this one. It was really fun to write. And it was great when Sara showed Chandler what he was messing with by making up that mean chant. **

**Somebody will be showing up in the next chapter and the rating may be bumped up to PG-13 if I decide to add a certain plotline. BTW Emma is a dedication to my bestest best group of friends! You rock! Or at least the Emma in this chapter. I've got the main-main-main plotline planned out completely and I'm thinking there'll be maybe two or three chapters more. :( I don't want it to end but everything does eventually right?**

**Happy Easter everybody! ;) Here comes Peterokay, I'll stop singing. And a thank you to all my reviewers! If you've been reading and haven't reviewed, please do so! You phantom readers bug me! I want to know if you're reading. Just type something like 'hi' or 'I read your story', just so I know if you're reading.**


	15. Part Three: Chapter Five

**Part Three: Chapter Five**

_**November 20, 1985**_

The steady gushing of water from the water faucet rang in Sara's ears as she scrubbed away at dishes. Auntie Em was talking to Leroy in the living room over the television commercials, and from what Sara could hear, they were discussing her 'eye-rolling problem'. Sara sighed. The world could be so cruel at times.

As Sara was drying a glass, the doorbell rang loudly, followed by three quick knocks.

"Sara!" barked Leroy. "Answer the door!"

Sara set down the dishtowel and cup and strode over to the front door, combing her fingers through her hair and smoothing her shirt to look at least relatively presentable. When she opened the door, a loud gasp escaped from her mouth.

"Derek!" she exclaimed loudly, mouth hanging open, eyes wide in astonishment.

Derek chuckled, his black hair gleaming in the sun, a slight goatee beginning to grow on his bottom lip.

"Sara! Hey! You…uh…smell like soap!"

"I've been cleaning dishes. What are you doing here?" she questioned through several disbelieving gasps and chuckles.

"I came to see you."

"I haven't—"

"Sara!" came Leroy's loud voice from the living room. Sara flinched. Yes, the world was _extremely_ cruel at _numerous_ times. "Sara, who's here?" he demanded.

"An old friend!" she answered loudly. "Sorry about him, he's my uncle."

"Sara!" the man called again. "I don't want you talking to them until I do!"

"But—"

"Don't make me—"

"Alright! Alright…You're going to have to come in Derek." Sara mumbled. Derek gazed at her, slight smile still on his face, before striding into the house.

"Leroy, this is Derek," she mumbled, waving a hand at him. "Derek, my Uncle Leroy." She rolled her eyes slightly, a smirk riding across her face.

"I thought you didn't have a boyfriend." Leroy muttered, furrowing his brow.

"That's because I don't." Sara responded.

"Then what do you call this?"

"My brother?" Sara answered incredulously.

"Stop taking tones young lady. Besides, you're lying, you're an only child."

"Foster brother, Leroy."

She could see his hand clench into a fist as though he were resisting the urge to hit her upside the head. Derek seemed to notice it too, his original smile seemingly fading from his face as he eyed her uncle.

"And this is Em, Derek. Em, Derek, Derek Em. There. Am I excused now?" Sara asked.

"You have dishes to finish." Em hissed. "Nothing until that's done."

"I'll help you finish them Sara." Derek added.

Em seemed taken aback, and Uncle Leroy threw in his two cents.

"See Sara? Why can't you be more like this nice young man?"

Derek's smile faded once more and he glared down at Leroy.

"Trust me; you don't want Sara to be like me."

Sara, Em, and Leroy all gaped at Derek.

"Uh…Come on, Derek, let's go…" Sara mumbled, grabbing hold of Derek's arm and tugging him gently into the kitchen. Leroy instantly turned the volume on the television up so as not to be disturbed. As soon as they were out of basic earshot, Sara threw her arms around Derek's neck.

"I've missed you so much, and not even a word! You never called, never wrote, never anything! Oh, I've missed you! You have _no_ idea how horrible it is here! It's awful!"

Derek's arm draped itself around Sara's shoulders as she began to cry silently, into his shoulder thanks to the overwhelming joy she felt being with him again.

"I've missed you to. I'll explain everything after we finish those dishes." He pointed at the slight stack of dirty silverware and plates on the counter. Sara let him go and they began working steadily on the chore. Sara, for the first time in a long time, laughed and smiled as she splashed soapsuds at Derek.

* * *

"So," Sara whispered, tossing a towel at Derek after digging for it in the bathroom. He took it and ruffled his hair, attempting to get out all the soap and water Sara had splashed on him earlier. "What are you doing here?"

He tossed the towel to Sara who used it on her own hair, seeing as how Derek had managed to get just as much on her as she got on him. "I already told you, to see you."

"After two months of not contacting me at all?" she smirked and tossed the towel down the hamper.

"I've been grounded." Derek muttered, sitting up on the bathroom counter. Sara sat next to him.

"For how long?"

"A year."

Sara looked away for a moment, then spoke up.

"Then how could you have come here?" she asked.

"Mom and Dad, they said I should visit you as soon as I'm healed." He lifted his shirt slightly, fingering a long scar across his stomach. "That's where they operated on me. I have to thank you Sara, for saving my life."

"It's not like I had much of a choice. Em and Leroy practically dragged me out of there."

"Well I have to thank you for not hating me, for not hating my mistake."

Sara smiled and swung her legs back and forth on the counter top.

"Why didn't anyone come and visit me ever?" Sara asked.

"Frankie told us about your drop off. He didn't seem too pleased with your aunt, said he didn't want Meg, Mike, or Taylor to be around them. I'm more concerned with your uncle. Does he hit you?"

"Sometimes, when I talk back or roll my eyes or something like that."

Derek grinned.

"That sounds like the Sara I know."

Sara returned the smile and the room fell quiet except for the slight drone of the television down the hall.

"I'm turning my life around Sara." Derek muttered, interrupting the silence. "I've got a job now and saving up for college. I want to be a car mechanic."

"That sounds great Derek."

"But this is the only time I'm going to be able to talk to you for a long time. Remember, I'm grounded. Then I'm going to college. I've learned my lesson."

"I'm glad." Sara whispered. "You think you know somebody, huh?"

"I _am_ sorry. You know that right?"

"I know."

"That was a stupid question. You always know."

Sara smirked along with Derek.

"I'm thinking about going to college myself." Sara mumbled. "Harvard, if I can."

"Harvard?"

"I want to be a detective."

"Really?"

"Ever since I last saw Clara."

"The old woman who lived at your old house?"

Sara nodded. She'd talked about Clara with Derek before. She was just glad he remembered,

"Sara," Derek muttered, glancing at his watch, "I've got to go. Mom said I have to be home by five o' clock. Takes an hour to get there. Come here," He reached over and gave Sara a tight squeeze around the shoulders then hopped down from the counter. Sara followed, falling only an inch or two due to her lengthy legs.

"Hey Sara," he whispered. "I'll be back though, all right? Maybe even when you least expect it. I promise. I'll be there when it's most important to you."

Sara smiled.

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

He winked at her and stood in the open bathroom door.

"That's the Sara I know."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I have finally assured myself there are no more than TWO count 'em TWO chapters left. :( I find myself teary-eyed. To think, that cute little girl in the beginning running along the beach is this teen before us. I'M GONNA CRY:sob: I'm becoming emotionally attached, like a mom...even though I'm not a mom...I'm 13... I don't know if I'm going to be able to type the last word without a breakdown. HUG ME 


	16. Part Three: Chapter Six

**Part Three: Chapter Six**

**_March 29, 1986_**

"What has you so distracted today Sara? Eat!" Em snapped at breakfast.

Sara sighed and took a small bite of stale cereal. The cornflakes were hard in her mouth, causing her to take a quick gulp of orange juice after every bite.

"What's in that crazy mind of yours Sara?" Leroy asked sternly, glaring at her past his thick bushy eyebrows.

"Nothing," Sara muttered, chewing another grain of cereal painfully, only ending up taking one more large swig of orange juice. It was a lie, a horrible one that Leroy saw through right away.

"That's a lie. You're lying to us Sara. There's always something going on in your mind."

Sara sighed, slouching in her spot, only to remind herself that she had to sit straight if she wanted breakfast, even if it was stale cereal.

"Tell us what's on your mind Sara Marie Sidle." Em demanded.

Sara hesitated, but then spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a job."

Em's mouth dropped open and Leroy spat a mouthful of coffee over the table.

"_What_?" Leroy cried incredulously. "Sara, that's nonsense. Women are barely meant to work, let alone girls! I am hereby _forbidding_ you to get a job."

"What could you possibly spend any money on anyway?" Em jeered.

"College, Harvard more specifically." Sara mumbled in a dull, expressionless voice.

Leroy choked on his coffee again and he sputtered, "No, no, no, absolutely not. Your Aunt Em never went to college. Women are meant to work at home where they're _needed_."

"Why should I work at home if I never plan to get married?" Sara pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

"That's it!" Leroy shouted. "Go to your room! Now!"

Sara grabbed her unfinished breakfast and dumped it down the sink's drain, putting the bowl in the drainer, and walking past the table towards her room. Uncle Leroy and Auntie Em glared at her the whole way.

When she reached her room, she flopped onto the mattress with another heavy sigh. Sara reached around her bed, gripping a bundle of her blankets and pulling them to her. She was going to go to college, whether Em and Frankie wanted her to or not. Nothing would stop her. She sat up on her bed and reached over to her backpack. It was Sunday, one of the reasons she was sent to her room and not to school.

Sara pulled out a thick pamphlet filled with Harvard information, given to her by Ms. Wither. She sighed and paged through it quickly for the millionth time since she received it a two months ago. She was determined to go to college, and not just any college, Harvard. She was going to succeed in her life, unlike her mom, unlike her dad, even unlike people like Derek. She was going to do it. She just needed a way to do so.

She stood up on her mattress and looked out the window above it. There wasn't much of a drop. She could easily jump out into the dried shrubbery below. She opened the window as quietly as she could and then eased herself over the edge, the windows metal frame digging into her fingers as she hung over the other side. Holding her breath, she let go and tumbled down into the shrubs below.

Gasping slightly as several branches dug into her skin leaving scratches on her legs and arms, she rolled out of the bushes and onto the dry grass. Making sure no one inside was bothering to look at what she was doing, she walked down the yard and onto the sidewalk. She didn't plan to be out long, just around an hour. She'd pick up a newspaper from somebody's yard, look at the classifieds for the closest job, and take that.

It didn't take long to find a newspaper still left out on the sidewalk. Sara, squinting beneath the sun's intense rays, bent down and picked the paper from the ground. She flipped it open to the classifieds and skimmed the addresses. There was one job close by her home, and better yet, it was on the route to and from school. Sara smiled to herself and began walking down the street, paper in hand.

* * *

"Yeh really want to work 'ere?" asked an old man as he swept scraps of food and some dirty silverware into a plastic bin he was holding.

"Please?" Sara insisted, standing just beyond the doors and next to a spinning, clear, refrigerator with numerous pies inside. "I need the money!"

"Fer what, some sort of new-fangled contraption?"

Sara sighed. "No."

"Then what?" He hobbled over to a sink and dumped the bins contents into it.

"College."

The man stopped short.

"College, eh?" he asked, one of his eyes goggling at Sara, the other squinting itself shut. He was ancient, with stray bits of frizzy white hair on his relatively bald head, and a shrunken mouth among all his many lines and wrinkles. He shook a bony finger at Sara and spoke in his raspy voice, "What yeh be goin' ter college fer anyway, and tinkin' 'bout it at such a young age?"

"I want to be a detective." Sara answered promptly.

"So yer goin' ter make yer start at an ol' restaurant?"

"It's not the place, it's the profit."

"Well don' tink ye'll be getting anytin' mer dan minimum wage, yeh hear?" he muttered. "Yeh can start by cleaning off de rest of dese 'ere tables, and den washin' dose dishes!" He pointed his finger over at the mounting stack of plates and forks in the sink, slight frown on his face.

Sara attempted to hold back a sigh.

"Can we discuss my hours?"

"Yeah, righ', uh…eight in de mornin' ter tree in de afternoon, how's dat sound fer yeh?"

"Bad."

"Picky are yeh?"

"If I'm going into college, I need to go to school!"

"Oh, yeah, das righ'."

"How does three fifteen to six thirty sound? At home we eat dinner at seven o' clock."

"I need ye here 'til seven o' clock. Rush hours before dat and das when we've got de most dishes ter wash. Yer not tryin' to stiff me are yeh?"

"No sir,"

"All right den…" He turned to filling the sink with water and a squirt of soap.

"What about my pay?" Sara questioned.

"What about yer pay?" He goggled his eye at her once again.

"How much am I getting?"

"I already gone and told yeh what yer gettin'! Minimum wage yeh hear? And don' tink yer getting' paid fer today. Yer only 'ere today so I can see how well yeh work."

"I have to be home soon though!"

"I don' care when yeh gotta be home!"

"I'll get in trouble."

"Am I suppose' to care?"

Sara sighed.

"I guess not."

"Good. Den get to work!" He gave Sara a slight prod in the shoulder towards one of the messy tables. She worked quickly and quietly, brushing the dirty plates and silverware into the bin as the old man had done, listening only partly to his words about 'Yer lucky I let yeh in, it's befer openin' time' and 'Make sure yeh don' break anytin'!' When she had completed the task of clearing off the tables she was becoming worried her uncle or aunt would discover she was missing. After all, she had been out for half an hour, almost her supposed curfew.

She worked tirelessly for yet another hour on the dishes; her stomach squirming in slight fear of what would await her should she get home to discover Em and Leroy knew about her temporary disappearance. Suddenly, a quick jingle of bells could be heard from the doorway of the restaurant.

"Arilyn! Took yeh long enough ter get down 'ere!"

Sara, expecting to see an old woman coming in the door to greet the old man, continued scrubbing away at the dishes. She looked up surprised when the voice of someone close to her age sounded through the room.

"Hey there Bud! Sorry I'm late, Mom and Dad wanted me to do a couple of chores. Find anyone to take Lydia's place yet?"

Bud chuckled. Sara tried best she could not to let her mind wander off the dishes, although her ears were listening intently to the conversation in the other section of the restaurant.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Don' know if I'll be keepin' 'er yet dough. Says she's gonna use de money fer college. She's back dere doin' dishes like she's suppose' ter."

Sara continued working on the dishes, scrubbing the grease and meat from a certain stubborn pan of goulash. She was oblivious to the sound of footsteps nearing.

"Hey there!" came a sudden voice from before the sink. Sara started and looked up from the pan she was scouring.

"Uh…Hi!" She smiled slightly then returned to her chore.

"Whatcha doing?" the girl before her asked. She was tall, with curly red hair and blue eyes. She wore dangling earrings and plenty of eye-shadow. Sara had the slightest feeling she had seen her somewhere before, somewhere; probably school, but she couldn't place the importance.

"Um…cleaning?" Sara responded, smile fading.

"Sounds nice. Why?"

Sara raised her eyebrows at her.

"Awesome!" Arilyn exclaimed. "Do that eyebrow thing again!" She was smiling widely and gazing at Sara's forehead, making her feel rather uncomfortable.

"I have to get home, as soon as I'm done with this stupid…pan…" She scoured the pan forcefully with her hand, a sponge, and a scrubbing brush. Arilyn just watched her curiously.

"So…You're new?"

"Yes," Sara muttered, glaring down at the pan that was refusing to get clean.

"Why are you working here?"

"Because I need money and this job is on my way to school."

"Oh. That's nice. What do you need money for?"

"Didn't Bud already tell you?" Sara huffed, temporarily abandoning her assault on the pan.

"I figured you might have lied to him."

Sara did her best not to raise her eyebrows again and returned to her barrage of scrubbing.

"I don't believe in lying." Sara muttered.

"So you really want to go to college?"

"Yes! Now, if you'll excuse me," Sara exclaimed, slight smile running across her face again as the last bit of crusted food fell from the clean pan into the water. She quickly dried the pan and set it atop the other dishes then drained the sink.

"You look like an expert at cleaning dishes. You sure you haven't worked here before?" Arilyn smirked at her. Sara returned it.

"I need to get home now, before I get in trouble."

"Why would you get in trouble for getting a job?" Arilyn asked curiously, grabbing a broom beside her Sara hadn't noticed before, and tagging along.

"Because my uncle doesn't believe in women getting jobs or going to college so I had to sneak out in order to find a way to get money." She pushed the door open, sending the entrance bell jingling. Suddenly Sara realized how she knew Arilyn. She spun around to face the girl.

"You—you're Chandler's ex!"

Arilyn smiled broadly.

"The only girl to ever break up with Prince Charming."

Sara scoffed.

"Charming…right."

"And _you_ are the only girl to ever _reject_ Prince Charming, _and_ the only _person_ to ever hit him."

"And not particularly proud of it." Sara muttered, turning down the street again.

"You should be!" Arilyn called, jogging up to Sara's side.

"And why would that be?"

"Because…oh, how do I put this…You've got several girls admiring you now. That's a start."

Sara laughed.

"Right, admire me. You know the only reason I punched him was that he was insulting me and my family. And I'm not surprised if you were right along with him, chanting that stupid rhyme."

"I wouldn't do that."

Sara chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, right…of course you wouldn't."

Arilyn attempted to raise her eyebrow at Sara.

"Dagnabbit, I don't know how you do that eyebrow thing."

Sara laughed as Arilyn attempted to raise her faint red eyebrow at her.

"It all has to do with genes." Sara muttered as she turned down her street.

"But of course, you'd be the one telling me this because you are the smartest kid in the school."

"It's not my fault. That's genes too."

"What are you planning on going to college for anyway, scientist?"

"Detective," Sara mumbled dully as her house came into view. She was still curious as to why Arilyn was bothering to follow her, with broom in hand at that.

"Are there, like, you know, science detectives out there?"

Sara shrugged.

"Hey, do you think you could give me a boost through my window?" Sara asked as the house came even closer into view. Her window was still open, giving Sara some hope that her disappearance had gone undiscovered.

Arilyn gazed at the window as they came to the yard.

"Sure, why not?"

Sara walked forwards towards the window, reaching up to it. She could get the tips of her fingers around it, but she wouldn't be able to pull herself up.

"Here," Arilyn muttered. She got down on one knee, setting down the broom, and cupped her hands. Sara, slightly shocked, stepped on Arilyn's hands, reaching for the window. She managed to get her waist to it then tumbled over the other side onto her mattress. The door was still closed and Sara let out a heavy sigh of relief. She sat up on her mattress and stuck a thumbs-up out the window at Arilyn.

The girl smiled and returned it, brushing her auburn hair out of her eyes, and tucking it behind her earrings.

"I'll see you at work!" she whispered.

"What?" Sara exclaimed quietly.

"You passed the test. You get along all right with everyone else and don't brush annoying little me off when working, you get the job. Bud says anyone who can stand me can stand rush hour."

"I still have to make up a lie for where I'll be during my work hours." Sara muttered.

"I thought you didn't believe in lying?"

"I don't. But Em and Leroy are exceptions."

Arilyn grinned and picked the broom up from the ground, saluting Sara, who returned it. Then, quite to Sara's amusement, Arilyn went strutting down the street, waving the broom like a baton. She couldn't help but laugh, a loud hearty one that lasted until Arilyn turned the corner towards the restaurant.

* * *

A/N: You know what? Scratch what I said before. There will be a MAX of 5 chapters to go. Not just two left. I forgot about Arilyn and Sara's job when I typed that before. Plus there's another sub-plot that I just remembered so that'll take up yet another chapter. Expect at least two more! ;) You lucky ducks!


	17. Part Three: Chapter Seven

**Part Three: Chapter Seven**

**_April 3, 1987_**

"Here's yer paycheck Sara," Bud declared cheerfully, handing Sara an envelope. "And I've gone and decided ter give yeh a raise. Yeh darned well deserve it." Sara smiled faintly.

They were in Bud's office, a small room off the main building. Sara was standing in the middle of the room, in front of Bud's desk littered with piles of order forms, bills, and the works. A typewriter was in the center of it, barely visible amongst the piles of paper. Bud was standing on the opposite side of the desk, facing Sara, small, aged grin on his lined face.

"Yer dismissed. I'll see yeh on Monday. Get home safe." He sat down in his spot, placed a thin pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and began typing slowly.

Sara smiled again but remained standing where she was, vaguely fingering the envelope she held in her hands.

"Sometin botherin' yeh Sara?" Bud questioned, not looking up from the typewriter.

"You gave me a raise." Sara mumbled quietly, not looking at Bud, but at the envelope she held in her hands.

"I know I did. Yeh deserve it too, just like I gone and said." He continued typing on the typewriter, throwing random glances down at assorted sheets of paper.

"Why?" Sara asked, finally looking up from the envelope towards Bud.

"Why do yeh need ter know?" he responded, finally halting in his activity, sweeping the spectacles off his face, and looking at Sara curiously.

"I was just…curious is all. I'll leave. You don't have to say anything." She turned airily on her heel, pocketing her check as she turned.

"Because," Bud mumbled. Sara could hear the pitter patter of the typewriter's keys as he began again. "Yeh work overtime, yeh work well, yeh work hard, yer friendly with de costumers, and das what counts."

Sara spun back around slowly to face the aged, decrepit man, slight smile on her face.

"Thanks Bud."

He winked at her, a sort of faulty wink, but a charming, friendly one all the same. Sara smiled, then stepped out of the stuffy office into the deserted restaurant. Arilyn was just finishing the sweeping and waved at Sara as she exited the room. Sara returned it with a smile and nod, her gaze drifting from the redhead to the pile of clean, dried, organized dishes next to the sink. She smiled to herself slightly, noting a job well done, and bent down to her purse that she kept under the sink.

There were several coins inside, for costumers often tipped Sara as she passed to take used platters and silverware. She didn't ask for it, she just took the coins with a smile and thank you. Sara deposited the paycheck inside as well, patting it habitually for good measure. So what if she was a workaholic by age fifteen? It wasn't as if anybody was going to care except herself, and that didn't matter anyway.

Next to her purse, she kept her backpack filled with homework if she had some she didn't finish in class, and study materials whether or not she had a test coming up. Arilyn often quizzed her for big tests while Sara washed dishes, insisting that not only was she helping Sara, but that she may herself raise her grades from straight C's to straight B-'s. The results were Sara never failed a quiz and she had something to keep her occupied whilst working away the hours.

She reached under the sink again and pulled out her weighty backpack, hoisting it over shoulder with a few tiny sounds of exertion.

"I'll see you Monday Arilyn, at school or otherwise." Sara acknowledged as she opened the door, sending the bell ringing. It was dark out—it always was when she headed home. She sighed slightly, gazing up at several stars and the large moon that illuminated the dark sky. The streetlights guided her towards the appropriate road and today she felt like dancing underneath them. She never would of course, she hated to dance, but if she liked dancing, she was sure she would have. It had been a wonderful day. She had received a raise and another paycheck she could deposit in the bank the next day.

Thankfully, Auntie Em and Uncle Leroy remained to discover her secret occupation as dish-girl at a local restaurant. Her invented excuse to explain her absence was a science study group at school, and fortunately, Em and Leroy lapped it right up. Sara was sure nothing could go wrong.

She was receiving approximately one hundred dollars every two weeks, a fair amount for someone who washed dishes for five hours a day. When she was little, her mother and father opened up a savings account for her to use. Now she used it for her college money, depositing her paychecks regularly, to the point she knew the Saturday's desk clerk by first name.

Suddenly, some sudden noise from behind her in the dark brought her attention from her pleasing situation. She spun around and gazed down the street. A half-illuminated figure was running towards her, small, thin, and frail looking—Sara recognized it instantly as Emma.

"Emma!" Sara cried, gaping concernedly at the girl, her brown hair flyaway, her large eyes even wider than normal. She slowed to a stop in front of Sara and stood doubled over for a few moments before speaking.

"Sara," she panted, gasping for breath, "I ran…all the way…here…tried to catch you…at work…"

"What happened?" Sara questioned frantically.

"I was…at school…the library…" Emma continued, "Your aunt…and uncle…were looking for you….said they…didn't want you…missing…your mother's call…"

"Why would they be concerned about that? I never miss, even if it's on a Friday." Sara pointed out, becoming steadily more worried. They had gone to the school. They had discovered she hadn't been there.

"Emma…" Sara breathed. "They didn't find out that…No they…Did they?"

Emma seemed to have finally found her breath and managed to say the last few words with few pauses and breaths.

"They know. They know there's no study group. You have to get home. I'm sorry Sara."

She really did look it. Her green eyes looked up at Sara pleadingly, as though asking for her own forgiveness. Panic was rising in Sara's throat, that all too familiar lump rising in it. Then the sudden urge to run filled Sara. She had to run, whether it be to her house, to school, to work, somewhere. Her house was the best choice. She would be in the least trouble.

"Thank you Emma." Sara bent forward and hugged Emma tightly before turning and fleeing in the other direction.

* * *

Sara sat on her mattress, fear and guilt chewing painfully at her insides. When she had arrived at her house, it was empty. She took advantage of the desertedness and hid her paycheck as deep into her underwear drawer as she could. A book lay open on the mattress beside her but she had given up on it, her mind wanderings preventing her from any sort of entertainment—literature or otherwise.

Suddenly, the clanging of keys and heated mutterings reached Sara's ears and her stomach took a painful lurch. They were home.

"Sara!" shouted Leroy's agonizing voice.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut and remained where she was.

"Sara!" he called again.

The sounds of footsteps nearing reached Sara's ears and she opened her eyes briefly, closing them when he called her name once more. The calls came nearer and nearer to Sara's room, Em's voice soon joining Leroy's. Sara opened her eyes once more and looked at her door. A set of shadows outside it told her that Leroy was standing just outside her door. She held her breath, but continued to keep her eyes open, drawing her knees up to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them.

Then the door opened and Leroy stepped in, his face red, vein popping, his dark eyes crackling.

"Sara Marie Sidle!" he hissed, slamming the door behind him, causing the room to shake violently. Sara's eyes closed tightly in an attempt to press back tears. Her stomach felt as though it had been wrenched forward. She could sense him walking towards her and then an iron grip on her arm, dragging her upwards. She stood tall and dignified, although she wouldn't make eye contact with the furious man before her.

"You _lied_ to us!" he yelled. "Lied! It's a horrible thing and you did it! _You're_ a horrible thing! I horrible _brat_! _Look_ at me!" He grabbed a hold of Sara's chin and attempted to force her face to his. She strained against it but failed, and when he managed to face her head in his direction, she closed her eyes and bent her head towards the ground. It only succeeded in getting her thrown down to the mattress.

"So where've you _really_ been? All this time? A _year_? Where've you been hanging out for _a year_? Alleyways smoking pot maybe? Drinking with your slut friends?"

"Work." Sara muttered dully, rubbing her arm where Leroy had so forcefully gripped it. She could already tell a bruise would form.

"More lies?" he yelled piercingly. He raised his hand to her, causing her to flinch, but she shouted out in protest.

"No really! I've been working! At the restaurant down the block!"

His hand lowered but he remained glaring at her, his normally deep brown eyes changed to a solid charcoal black. "Where's your proof?"

Sara stood up shakily, bracing herself against the wall and walking across the room towards her dresser. The gaze of Leroy was deep and penetrating, and she could feel it on her the entire time she was delving through her layers of undergarments to retrieve the envelope. She hadn't even opened it herself yet and Leroy was bound to destroy it before she could even catch a proper glimpse.

She shakily held out the slip of paper for Leroy and he snatched it up instantly.

"That's the past two weeks pay check." Sara mumbled quietly, gazing wistfully at the envelope as Leroy tore it open, not even bothering to take care in making sure the document wasn't torn.

"Well I'll be darned," he muttered angrily, glaring down at the paper, "It's paycheck to you—one hundred dollars? You get this every two weeks?"

He looked at Sara, his face gratefully turning more pink than red, his vein seemingly fading back into his body, his eyes converting back to their original syrupy brown color, the crackle gone from them. Sara nodded.

Leroy let out a huff of surprise, his shoulders slouching, gaze snapping back to the paper he so limply held in his hand. The next minute went by in complete quiet, Sara's stomach turning, her arm aching. Breaking the stillness, Leroy muttered quietly, "You need to call your mother before the lines close." He brushed past her, forcefully shoving the paper into her hands, resulting in Sara bumping lightly into the dresser behind her.

"Wait!" she called, jogging up to him as he stormed down the hallway. "Are you still letting me keep my job?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Well it's not like I can stop you. Besides, you're useless. No man would ever want you around the house. Go call your mother." He gestured blearily towards the kitchen where Em was fixing up some leftovers, then fell exhaustedly into his puffy armchair. Sara sighed, pocketing her check once more, then striding over towards the telephone in the next room. Em refused to even acknowledge the fact she was there, heating a platter of food in the microwave.

Sara dialed the memorized string of numbers, talked quickly to the telephone operator, requested her mother, then waited patiently.

"Hello?" came the refreshingly familiar voice of her mother.

"Hey Mom." Sara muttered.

"What's wrong baby? You sound exhausted."

"It's just…It's nothing Mom. You don't have to worry. You sound worse. What's wrong?"

"I've got two life sentences now."

"What!" Sara exclaimed, feeling as though someone had just thrusted their full wait into her stomach.

"I've…er…killed somebody else…" Her voice cracked over the other line and Sara knees felt like jello. It was a horrible feeling, she felt as if she were spinning. Em was now gazing at her interestedly as the microwave beeped and she shoveled the food onto a plate for Leroy.

"I'm sorry baby."

"What happened?" Sara asked, extreme panic in her voice.

"Trust me honey, it was self-defense, I swear it was."

"Mom what happened?" Sara requested with more intensity, her voice ridden with tears though her face was quite dry.

"One of the inmates came at me."

"Well then why are you getting charged!" Sara squeaked.

"They've got about twenty witnesses who say it was the other way around."

"Mom you can't say that! You can't!"

Sara's legs gave out. She was kneeling on the ground, dry sobs escaping.

"They had me see a psychologist. He said I'm 'emotionally unstable'."

"Mom! It's not true! Stop lying to me!" Sara cried into the phone. It now sounded as though Laura was crying along with Sara on the other end.

"I have my trial on Tuesday next week."

"I can't trust you anymore…" Sara muttered out of nowhere. "You promised you wanted to be a better mother. You_ promised_!" Tears were finally flowing and Leroy and Em were both gawking at their morbid niece.

"I'm sorry Sara."

"No you're not!" Sara shouted into the telephone. "You're not, you never will be! You're not a mother! You're a_ murderer_!"

"Sara I—"

"What? You _what _Mom?"

"I love you."

Sara hung up and dropped the now beeping phone to the ground with a clatter. Em and Leroy stood stunned, Em carrying a steaming platter of old meatloaf, Leroy staring down at Sara, his double chin dropped. Sara sat sobbing on the floor. Her mother really was a murderer. It wasn't all just a mistake, an unfortunate situation. It was real. Her mother was a killer.

Next thing, Sara stood up and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her, all happiness from the earlier afternoon gone…gone forever.

* * *

**A/N: I love this chapter and I don't even know why. I probably shouldn't, but it made me cry. I CRIED. There'll be a song at the end of this fiction. Somebody guess what it is. And the last Chapter will have a title. Not just 'Part 75: Chapter2154254325432652' -I could never write that much.**


	18. Part Three: Chapter Eight

**Part Three: Chapter Eight**

_**April 5, 1987**_

"Maybe I don't deserve to live. Maybe I never did." Sara muttered in a depressed monotone. She, Emma, and Arilyn were sitting on the grass in the middle of the schoolyard, a slight breeze blowing amidst the waves of students wandering the grass.

"That's crazy thinking Sara. Of course you deserve to live." Emma responded sternly.

"If you had any good enough reason not to live, we would have deserted you long ago." Arilyn added with a slight scoff.

Sara was staring unblinking across the grass, allowing the breeze to cool her neck from the beating sun.

"I would believe you guys. I really would."

"Then why not?" Arilyn questioned.

"I've lived through too much."

"Yeah, yeah, we know, mom and dad, death, jail." Arilyn muttered.

"Thanks for caring." Sara replied with seething sarcasm.

"Well geez, Sara. You've got to get over it _eventually_. There's really no point in dwelling on things like that."

"I'm not _dwelling_ on it." Sara muttered scathingly, still staring over the grass, squinting against the sun, and rubbing her neck as it grew increasingly sweaty. "It's a part of my life."

"We know it's a part of your life Sara. It'd be a part of _anyone's_ life." Emma piped in. "But what I think Arilyn's trying to say is that you can't revolve your life around it!"

Arilyn nodded in confirmation.

"Look, what Leroy said to me…it hurt. It hurt really bad. I know…" She paused and let out a loud breath through her nose. "I know I've said that…that I don't believe in love. But I know it's a part of life. Would you really be living if you never loved somebody?"

"C-Could you repeat to me what he said? Just once more?" Arilyn interrupted with a curious tone.

Sara sighed heavily then mumbled, "He said that no man would ever love me, no one would ever want to live with me, have me for a wife, or anything."

"Yeah, well, that's bull and you know it." Arilyn defended, raising her eyebrows as far as they would go, glaring at Sara sternly.

Sara let out a small breath of amusement then pulled her knees to her chest as she continued gazing at the grounds.

"Look…" Arilyn began. "Sara, everyone has something that's gone terribly wrong with their life."

"I just ended up getting an extra short straw." Sara muttered, finally looking away from the sunlit grass and staring at her knees.

"A lot of people get short straws Sara." Arilyn said, her voice turning surprisingly to a secretive whisper.

"Take me for instance." Emma mumbled, picking at a piece of grass. "My parents are never home. I never get to talk to them. It's one thing having a dead parent, or a locked up parent Sara. It's completely different to have two live and kicking ones who won't stop to tell you they love you at breakfast in the morning. It's completely different to have parents who don't tuck you in at night, though they definitely could if they didn't put so much overtime into work. It's _completely_ different Sara."

The three girls sat silent as another wave of wind swept through the ground, cooling them from the Californian rays.

"What about you Arilyn?" Sara questioned. "You were the one who said it after all. What's your shortened straw?"

Arilyn continued to speak in a discreet tone, looking at nothing but the grass, the clouds, or the line of trees by the school building. Her blue eyes seemed hazed over, losing their normal cheerful, perkiness.

"Everyone has their short straws…," she muttered absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I know. You've said that. What's yours?" Sara asked with more feeling and curiosity. She could tell Arilyn was stalling.

Arilyn continued staring anywhere but at Sara and Emma.

"I…was…on a date." Her voice cracked slightly and she gulped. "A movie," She chuckled slightly. "I thought it was cliché, but he didn't. He wanted a movie—drive in movie to be exact." She shook her head, licking her bottom lip distractedly. "The date went out of hand. _He_ went out of hand."

All three girls were silent; Sara and Emma's mouths hanging open shocked.

"Who, Chandler?" Sara cried.

Arilyn scoffed. "No. He was too far up his own behind to think about it." She shook her head again. "I should have known…"

"Where is he now?" Sara questioned.

"Jail. Turned out it happened to three other girls. They were too scared to tell anybody."

Tears began falling steadily down Arilyn's cheeks and she wiped them away with a shaky hand.

"You're not the only one with a short straw Sara. Trust me."

Sara reached out to Arilyn's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. Emma, who was sitting on Sara's left, stood up and walked over to Arilyn's right instead, reaching her arm out and embracing her warmly. Arilyn smiled.

"I decided to get over it though. I knew it wouldn't help to linger on it."

"How long did it take you?" Sara questioned, dropping her hand back to the ground as Arilyn's last few tears cleared.

"I'm still working on it Sara. I'm still working on it. I will be for the rest of my life"

"How'd you start?" Emma asked, letting go of Arilyn as well.

"You know, I don't really remember. I think one day I just went and said 'You know what? I'm not going to let this rule my life anymore.' And that was that. I went back to the original me—brushed the problem into a closet. Sure _one_ of these day's I'm going to have to reopen that closet and clean it out, deal with the dust-bunnies but…you know, it can wait. You're only young for a few years of your life right?" She turned her gaze to Sara and Emma in turn, smiling at them.

The two returned the smiles and all three looked out over the grass, Sara lingering on a small scufflenearthe basketball court.

"You know what?…" Sara began quietly. "Teams."

"What?" Emma scoffed in a questioning tone.

"Teams work best together."

"Thanks for the enlightenment Sara. Aren't you supposed to be the brilliant one?" Arilyn asked.

"You know…three short straws make one long one."

"Mmm…metaphors. I think they're going to your head Sara." Emma acknowledged.

"I suppose, if the world were made of tons of short straws and they all banded together, they'd make one long one."

"Yeah, too bad some people haven't the slightest inclination to share their straws."

"You know what else?"

"Hmm?" Arilyn inquired, slight smile on her face.

"We're pathetic."

"Why?"

"Look at us! We're talking about straws for crying out loud!"

Arilyn and Emma laughed heartily as the bell rang across the grass courts.

"They're metaphors Sara, not straws, metaphors." Emma said through chuckles.

The three stood up from the ground and began striding towards the door in a horizontal line.

"You still think you don't deserve to live?" Arilyn questioned, half-smile, half-concerned look on her face, giving Sara a playful nudge in the shoulder.

"One missing short straw makes the long straw that much shorter, right?" Sara said with a smile.

* * *

**A/N: Well...One more left. :( I'm expecting it to be one of the longest yet, so that's a bonus. It IS happy. Umm...THAT'S ALL I'M GIVING YOU. I had a conversation sorta like this with my friends once. Kinda...sorta...in a way.**


	19. I Hope You Dance

**I Hope You Dance**

_**June 11, 1989**_

"I don't even see _why _I'm going." Sara muttered hotly as Arilyn fixed her hair into a curly, tumbling, bun.

"What do you mean you don't know why you're going?" Arilyn exclaimed incredulously. "Oh, I love your hair…" she muttered as an afterthought, gazing into the vanity mirror before them. " Red is _so_ overrated."

Emma, Arilyn, and Sara were all in Arilyn's messy room, covered with dirty clothes, beaded doorways, and heavy perfumes. The vanity was covered with used lipstick and eye shadow. Sara was sitting at Arilyn's vanity, arms folded, with a resentful pout on her face.

"I don't see why I'm going," Sara repeated in an exasperated tone.

"Oh for Pete's sake Sara! It's your graduation dance! You have to go!"

"According to you. It's not official I have to go."

"Even _I'm_ going Sara." Emma offered in Arilyn's defense. "And I never go to the dances."

"Well you're only going because you have nowhere else to be!"

"And you do?" Arilyn questioned, continuing to brush and pin Sara's hair.

"Work?"

Arilyn let out a snort of mirth.

"Bud gave us the night off. There won't be anyone at the restaurant anyway—they'll all be at the dance."

"So? I could catch up on dishes or health codes or something."

"Sara, Sara, Sara. You really need to learn how to have a good time."

"I still can't believe you talked me into buying this dress…" Sara muttered angrily, unfolding her arms and gesturing at it.

It was a crimson satin fabric, folding from her waist to her shoulder, leading all the way down to her ankles dawned in matching high-heeled shoes.

"I almost got you to buy the strapless." Arilyn added proudly.

"_Almost_." Sara emphasized. She had always been uptight about spending her money, insisting she needed every penny of it.

"Sara Marie, you would have gone in jeans and a t-shirt if it weren't for me. Besides, I bought you matching shoes and a purse to go with." She placed some bobby pins in her mouth and furrowed her brow in rapt concentration.

Sara sighed and slumped down slightly in her chair.

"Hey! Careful! You have to hold still!" Arilyn cried, muffled through the pins.

"Sorry!" Sara straightened quickly, causing Arilyn to grunt slightly in resentment.

"So…" Sara mumbled. "Is there a reason you're wearing a torn jean skirt and a tank top?"

"Well, unlike you two lonely souls, _I_ have Alan."

"I thought you broke up!" Emma exclaimed from behind them.

"We did. We just got back together a month later is all." Arilyn replied sneakily.

"That still doesn't explain your wardrobe choice." Sara grumbled.

"I don't need to make a big impression."

"So either you're going to not make a big impression by dressing differently or Emma and I are going to be the only two dressed up?" Sara questioned, trying her best not to squirm as Arilyn painfully stuck another pin in her hair.

"Of _course_ you're not going to be the only two dressed up. And different is a highly offensive term. I prefer 'unique' thank you very much."

"Right…unique if that's what you call it…"

"Oh shush." Arilyn placed a final bobby pin into Sara's hair. "You are looking fi-ine. You are going to pull in the catch of your life tonight! Now for one final touch…" She reached around the vanity's drawer, pulling out with a small bag in tow. She opened it briskly and pulled out assorted varieties of make-up, mascara, lipstick, eye-shadow—the works.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second. Who said _anything_ about wearing make-up?" Sara yelped, pushing Arilyn's hand away as she came towards her with a tube of bright pink lipstick. Arilyn pulled away with a huff.

"Well what have I been teaching to do for…oh…I dunno…the past _year_?"

"Fine," Sara grumbled as Emma laughed in the background. "But I'll do it. You always put on too much. And I'm _not_ using that color."

Sara reached into the bag as Arilyn rolled her eyes and threw the tube of lipstick over her shoulder. Sara came out with a red, slightly brown, shade.

"There, see?" She quickly applied a light layer and smacked her lips to some extent as Arilyn had instructed repeatedly throughout the year in a vain attempt to make her more 'in style'.

"Now eye-shadow!" Arilyn coaxed, shoving the bag further towards her.

Sara sighed and pulled out the pallet.

"What color did you say goes best with brown eyes again?" Sara questioned, gazing confusedly at the many different colors.

"Well, normally mauve, green, and gold, but I don't like mauve, and green would make you look too much like a Christmas elf, not that you're short…so go with gold."

"I was going to anyway," Sara muttered, applying that as well. She finished placing the rest of the make-up on about fifteen minutes later, receiving numerous random promptings and tips from Arilyn in the process.

"Finished," Sara declared, flinging the mascara into the pouch of make-up.

"Finally!" Arilyn cried. "You know I could have done it about five minutes faster, right?"

"Stop rubbing it in," Sara responded resentfully, Emma chuckling again in her corner.

"Who'd you say was driving?" Arilyn asked, kicking some used makeup out of Sara's way, helping her to stand shakily, thanks to the pleasant mix of thick shag carpeting and high-heeled shoes.

"I am," Sara declared, bending over and plucking a set of keys from inside her newly purchased purse that resided amid the make-up on the vanity.

"Says who?" Arilyn questioned, letting go of Sara and heading towards the door.

"Says me."

"Why can't I drive?"

Sara stood and thought for a second. "Is there going to be alcohol at the party?"

"First off, it's not a party, it's a dance. Second, no there won't be any."

Sara bit her lip and thought for another moment.

"Alan." she finally stated.

"What _about_ Alan?"

"You get to sit in the backseat with your boyfriend."

A slight guilty smirk spread across Arilyn's face before she asked yet another question, "Well then why can't Emma drive?"

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Emma interrupted, raising her hands in surrender.

"I don't want to drive."

It was Sara's turn to smirk now.

"There, see? Case closed." she declared.

"Typical." Arilyn muttered under her breath, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

"What?" Sara wobbled forward, her hands held out to balance herself. Her purse was in one hand, keys in the other.

"Well, it's typical for Miss I'm Going to Harvard to Be a Detective to say 'case closed'."

Sara smirked again, taking a few more wobbly steps forward.

"Well it's not typical for me to walk in high-heeled shoes." Sara muttered, tipping a little towards the right, and struggling to stand straight again. Arilyn just chuckled.

"Race you to the car!" she cried, as Emma swept past gracefully. Arilyn followed her, giggling madly.

"Not fair!" Sara shouted, still smiling in a false way, struggling to walk through the cluttered bedroom. Suddenly, Arilyn's head peeked back behind the doorway.

"Not fair?" she repeated. "What if I gave you lessons?"

"I don't need lessons." Sara grunted, finally managing her way to the door.

Arilyn jutted her chin out in concentration before declaring decidedly "Yeah, you do."

Sara rolled her eyes but allowed Arilyn to take her by the hand and lead her out onto the wood floor of the hallway.

"Okay, now what?" Sara asked, struggling to stand upright.

"Just walk back and forth down the hallway a couple of times."

Sara did as she was told, leaning onto the wall for support. When she returned to Arilyn, the redhead sent her out again. "Don't use the wall this time!" she added. Sara struggled a bit at first, feeling as if she were going to fall flat on her face, but she did manage to walk without falling.

Arilyn applauded her from down the hallway.

"Now for distraction!" she called.

"What do you mean?" Sara answered back.

Arilyn leered at her, then stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew out, in a long hard whistle. Sara's eyes widened but it was too late for her to do anything to keep her balance. Arilyn's black Labrador, Timothy Oscar Tierce Omar (Toto, for short), bounded into the hallway, his large paws padding heavily on the wooded floors, his nails clicking loudly. He ran right past Sara, causing her to lose her balance and fall painfully onto the floor.

"Hmm…" Arilyn muttered, patting Toto on the head as he squirmed around her. "Let's try that again…Stand up Sara."

Sara glared at her as she stood shakily while bracing herself against the wall, purse and keys still in her hand.

"Okay, go on Toto!" She gave the animal a slight shove in Sara's direction. He charged, but Sara was ready this time. She quickly moved out of his way, thankfully keeping her balance as he skidded into the kitchen, knocking over a few chairs in the process.

Arilyn and Sara both laughed as Toto rolled onto his back and squirmed around on the floor amidst the fallen seats.

"I think you're ready Sara." Arilyn giggled. "Okay, Toto, into the backroom. We don't want you eating anything of Mom's while we're gone now do we?"

The dog stopped rolling around on the floor and bounded up to the backdoor. Arilyn strode over and opened it, letting the animal into the room, then closing it behind him.

"Your dog has his own room?" Sara questioned disbelievingly.

"Oh he's spoiled like you wouldn't believe." Arilyn confirmed.

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell rang through the house.

"Hey you guys!" came Emma's voice from a few rooms down. "Alan is here!"

Arilyn smiled broadly and strode over towards the source of the racket, primping her hair distractedly in the process.

"Aren't you going to pick up the chairs?" Sara asked.

Arilyn waved it aside and went out of sight. Sara huffed slightly then bent down and lifted the chairs to their original standing positions. Arilyn really was a slob, but not the dirty kind of slob that left crumbs and food everywhere like Leroy. She was just cluttered.

After she finished putting the chairs back, Sara followed Arilyn's path to the front door where Emma, Arilyn, and Alan were waiting for her. The night was starry and bright, with a clear fresh sky and a distinct, indescribable scent of fresh air.

"Hey Sara!" Alan greeted her with a handshake and smile, which Sara returned. He had short brown hair and hazel eyes that Arilyn said were his best feature. He was a jock, like Chandler, but in a different sort of clique. Arilyn was hanging on Alan's arm, gazing up at him with wide, adoring eyes. Emma stepped over towards Sara, as though not wanting to intrude on the couple in front of them.

"We're…uh…driving my car, right Arilyn?" Sara asked, holding up her keys.

"Well I guess." Arilyn muttered distractedly, arm still hooked with Alan's.

"Good." Sara strode carefully over towards her small car, Emma, Alan, and Arilyn following her. She entered the driver's side, Alan and Arilyn the back, and Emma the passenger side.

"Now, no making out until you can do it in private. That's disgusting, and rude, mostly because Emma and I don't have boyfriends." Sara mumbled, staring back at the couple through the mirror. They were in the back seat and looked dangerously close to kissing. Sara started the car with a shake of her head. Nothing she said would make any difference.

Her car was old, but she had patched most of it up herself, just tinkering with it. Sure, it did break at some of the worst times, but this car she had managed to get with very little money, even considering its worn out state. The transmission started with a slight sputter but it drove down the road steadily all the same.

* * *

"Come on! Hurry up Sara!" Arilyn cried, walking down the parking lot towards the highschool auditorium. She was still hanging on to Alan's arm, and still managing to stare into his eyes half the time. Sara sighed and shut the car door behind her while Emma leaned against the right side of it, waiting patiently for her.

"Thanks for waiting Emma." Sara acknowledged, walking towards the highschool as well, still feeling as if she were going to fall forward. "You know what? Let's slow down." she muttered, slowing her pace.

"Why?" Emma questioned, slowing down to Sara's speed.

"Because I still don't want to go."

"Oh…"

By the time they reached the auditorium, Arilyn and Alan were already dancing.

Sara sighed, although she was extremely thankful most of the crowd was dressed in tuxedos and gowns. It was like how Arilyn explained the prom, which Sara had missed.

"Are you going to dance?" Sara asked Emma.

"Not right away, no." she muttered back.

"Let's go sit down."

"Good idea."

The two strode over to a deserted bench against the wall and sat down. Arilyn and Alan were now dancing so vigorously to the upbeat song, a crowd was beginning to gather around them to watch. Sara sighed again and pulled out a paperback book she had snuck into her purse. Emma leaned over Sara's shoulder to read with her for several minutes.

"Hello there ladies." came a smooth talking voice from above them.

Sara and Emma looked up from the book towards the voice, and some slight other snickers.

"You are looking B-e-a-utiful tonight Sara Sidle."

It was Chandler. Sara instantly narrowed her eyes and glared.

"I must say, I would have never thought you'd be one to dress up but you fix up mighty nice." Chandler was dressed in a white tuxedo, his hair slicked over with piles of hair-gel. Two of his friends were there as well, sniggering slightly.

"Thank you, Chandler." Sara mumbled, turning her eyes back to the book, tightening her grip on it.

"Care to dance?" he asked, taking one of his sausage fingers and pressing the book down. Sara jutted her chin and looked into Chandler's blue eyes. He was smiling charmingly and his pearly teeth sparkled.

"I don't dance." Sara replied coldly. "Especially with you."

"Oh come on, Sara! Is this about all those years ago?"

"Kind of, just a little, yeah it is."

Emma was sitting quietly, watching the two talk like a tennis match.

"Aw, come on. You got me back for that."

They were mere inches apart, Chandlers hand was pressed against the wall behind Sara and the bench, his other was tucked in his pocket. He continued beaming captivatingly at Sara—she continued coldly staring at him.

"Please?" he asked. She could smell his awful cologne and the breath mint on his exhalations. They were in a slight silence for a few moments before Sara broke it.

"I don't think so, Chandler."

His smile vanished and he returned the glare.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you took a step back."

He leaned back to a standing position then his gaze snapped to Emma.

"Emily, you look gorgeous tonight. I've never noticed your eyes before."

"It's Emma, and no, I'm not dancing with you."

He huffed, muttered a 'Let's go,' to his two followers, then walked away towards a bench where some other girls were chatting.

Sara and Emma watched him leave, a thick silence lingering in the air after his presence had left. Finally, the two girls let out the breath they had been holding in.

"I thought he was going to kiss me or something," Sara said with a chuckle.

"I did too." Emma admitted.

Sara set the book back inside her purse and turned her gaze to the dance floor. Emma followed her line of sight and let out a sigh.

"He is _so_ annoying."

"You can say that again."

"He is—"

"Figure of speech Emma."

"I know." she said with a laugh.

An entire hour passed and it was nearing ten o' clock. Suddenly, another boy swept over to Sara and Emma.

"H-Hey Emma." he greeted nervously. "Sara," He nodded at Sara in greeting, Sara answering with a smile.

"Hello there Matt." Emma mumbled. Matt had ordinary brown eyes and bland blonde hair. He was twiggy, and gave off a nervous air, although he was dressed nicely in a white blouse and tie.

"W-Would you…like to d-dance with me?" he stuttered. A flush crept up his neck and he wrung his hands anxiously.

Emma smiled over at Sara and she could tell she was holding back a giggle.

"Go on…" Sara urged.

"Are you sure?" Emma whispered back.

"Have a good time. Go on and dance."

"All right," Emma mumbled uneasily, standing up. Matt grinned slightly then turned to Sara.

"Do you need a date?"

"No, no, I'm fine...here."

"Are you sure? ' Cause Jeremy needs a date too." He pointed over at his friend who was standing in a corner. Jeremy was even worse off than Matt in the looks department, with scraggly brown hair, dull gray eyes, and poorly concealed acne.

"I-I think I'll pass, thanks." Sara answered.

"All right," Then he and Emma walked out to the dance floor and danced to a slightly slower song.

Sara sighed, pulled her book out of her purse again, and continued reading. Only when she finished it half an hour later did she begin thinking of heading home and packing. Several times she was asked to dance by several different boys she had never talked to before. Every time she rejected them, steadily feeling more and more egotistical. Maybe she'd just let the next boy talk to her or something.

However, word seemed to have gotten around that she wasn't dancing with anybody. The requests stopped and she was becoming even more bored than before. She felt like a statue, boys walking by her, visibly attempting not to stare, and then walking off.

A few times Arilyn and Emma stopped by. One of them would hand her a glass of punch, and then the three would talk a bit. As a final attempt, Arilyn would try to convince Sara to dance with somebody, even saying she'd share Alan if she had to. Sara always said no.

An hour later, Arilyn and Emma came by Sara again.

"Here you go Sara," Arilyn mumbled through a mouthful of cake, handing Sara a plate with some cake on top.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten anything the entire time we've been here."

"So? I'm not hungry."

"Fine. You eat it Emma," Arilyn muttered, handing the plate over to her.

Emma stared down at the plate, then bit off the frosting rose.

"What's got you so down Sara?" Arilyn questioned, sitting down on her left, Emma on her right.

"Nothing. I'm just…bored."

"What book did you bring?"

"How'd you know?"

"I know you too well."

Sara heaved a slight sigh and looked over at the dance floor. Chandler was putting his charm on some blonde girl on the dance floor and the next second they were dancing together. Arilyn followed her gaze.

"Ah…Yes, Chandler. He tried to get me away from Alan earlier."

"He was onto me too." Sara muttered.

"He looked like he was about to kiss her." Emma piped in.

"Interesting…Let's go kick him."

"What?" Sara exclaimed.

"Yeah! Let's go kick him!"

"No, that's stupid."

"Oh, and punching him wasn't?"

"That was completely different. I had a reason."

"You just don't want to get out of going to Harvard."

"I'm not kicking him, Emma's not kicking him, and you're definitely not kicking him because that will turn into a full blown fight and you'll end up doing more than giving him a bruised shin."

Arilyn smirked. "You're right."

"I know I am."

Then suddenly, the sound of doors opening reached her ears above the music. Everyone in the hall seemed to stop for a split second to see who had entered. Sara, Arilyn, and Emma glanced towards the doors as well. A man walked in, a young one, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a slightly built figure. He was wearing jeans, a dark shirt, and a tan jacket over it.

Sara recognized him almost instantly as Derek.

"My God…" she whispered.

"What?" Arilyn questioned, taking another bite of cake.

"It's…Derek…" she gasped, enormous smile creeping across her face.

"Who?" Arilyn questioned.

"My brother, remember?"

"Oh…yeah…Wait. What's your brother doing here?"

But Sara wasn't listening. She stood up from her spot and began walking over to Derek, standing in the middle of nowhere, looking around as though for somebody. Sara knew it was her he was searching for. Finally, he spotted her walking towards him and a smile spread across his face.

"_You_ look wonderful." he said, smile still on his face.

"W-What are you doing here?" Sara asked, smile still on hers as well.

"I didn't want to miss your graduation, but I did so I figured I'd come to the dance afterwards. You do look gorgeous. How many times have you been asked to dance?"

Sara rolled her eyes, "About…oh…I'd say at least five times."

Derek's lips turned up again.

"It's so great to see you." Sara cried in disbelief.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Great…really…great…"

They both smiled yet again before Arilyn and Emma approached from behind.

"So…this is your brother?" Arilyn questioned, eyeing him from feet to hair.

"Yeah. Umm…Derek, this is my friend Arilyn, Arilyn, Derek. And this is Emma, my other friend."

"Hi…" Arilyn mumbled shyly, quite out of her nature. She then leaned over to Sara, cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, "He's hot…"

"Oh shush," Sara responded.

"But you're not real brother and sister are you?" Emma asked.

"No," Derek answered. "Foster,"

"Right,"

"Are you single?" Arilyn asked suddenly.

"Arilyn!" Sara cried, turning around, her smile replaced by a slight frown.

"What?"

Derek and Emma were laughing now and Sara attempted to hold back any giggles trying to escape. Arilyn was now blushing.

"No, I have a girlfriend."

"Finally?" Sara responded.

"_Yes_, finally."

"What's her name?" Arilyn questioned eagerly.

"Jeanette,"

Arilyn's lips curled into a pout and she folded her arms.

"Where is she?" Sara asked.

"At school."

"You're school?"

"Yep…I hear _you're_ going to college too."

Sara smiled and Arilyn added the rest.

"She's going to _Harvard_ to be a _detective_."

"Forensic Scientist…" Sara muttered under her breath.

"Pbbf, Sorry," Arilyn scoffed.

Once more, everyone laughed.

"Sounds like you're doing well." Derek commented. "You hungry?" he asked, catching sight of the overflowing buffet table.

"Yeah, a bit." Sara replied.

She and Derek walked towards the buffet table, Emma and Arilyn following, throwing questioning looks at Sara who had five minutes before said she wasn't hungry, and was now saying she was.

They reached the buffet table and Derek instantly reached for a glass of punch and a slice of cake to eat. Sara truthfully still wasn't hungry, but she took a slice of cake all the same. Arilyn and Emma went straight to the cake once more, and Sara was actually thinking about maybe enjoying herself with Derek when a slight annoyance made its way back.

Chandler and the girl he had been dancing with on the dance floor made their way to the opposite side of the table. However, instead of reaching for a plate and some food, they stared across at Sara and Derek. Derek didn't bother to notice them, but Sara threw one glance their direction and then avoided all eye contact.

"Who's this Sara? I thought you didn't have a boyfriend." Chandler jeered, flashing his teeth again.

Sara felt herself flush, but she looked up to glare Chandler in the eye again. Derek had a confused look upon his face and was watching the two interestedly as the conversation proceeded.

"He's not my boyfriend Chandler."

Sara took a glance over at the pretty blonde hanging on Chandler's thick arm, gazing up at him in the very same manner Arilyn did with Alan.

"Well, we know he's not your dad." he sneered.

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but apparently, Derek thought it was time to intervene. "I'm not her boyfriend, or her dad, I'm her brother."

Chandler's dashing smile seemed to fade for a split second, but it returned.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. It's nice to meet you." He held out his sausage hand for a shake, and Derek took it, shaking only lightly.

"You know, I can see the resemblance." the blonde muttered, cocking her head one way and then the other, taking angled glances at Sara and Derek.

"So…how's your evening been Sara?" Chandler questioned, still smiling charmingly.

"Fine…" she muttered.

"How's your evening really been?"

"You know what? I'm not going to talk to you." Sara muttered under her breath, refusing to take her eyes off the delicately adorned table.

Chandler's chin dropped and his smile once more disappeared.

"You know what? You're just jealous." the blonde interrupted in a whiny sort of voice.

Sara couldn't help but chuckle. "Right. Jealous, if that's what you call it."

"Well I mean, come on, you're date is your brother!"

"He's not my _date_. He showed up."

Chandler and Derek were at this point staring at the two young women arguing over such a trivial thing, Chandler's smile had returned, although it was a nervous sort of 'Will you shut up now so we can go away?' smile rather than a charming 'I want to date you' smile. Derek however, had a concerned look upon his face, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Sara, may I talk to you?" Chandler whispered across the table, forcing the two out of their staring match.

Sara jutted her chin out and threw a glance at Arilyn, then Emma, and finally Derek, before muttering a "Fine, if it will get you to leave me alone."

Chandler smiled his normal charming smile then excused himself from the blonde girl. He and Sara walked over towards a corner and stopped just behind a row of tall potted trees.

"Look…Sara, I know you still have some bitter leftovers from all those years ago, when you were…14? Was it?"

"Yep," Sara muttered in an annoyed tone.

"Well, I know I was stupid then, and maybe a little bit too forward."

"No, you think?"

"I want to make it up to you."

"And how would that be?"

"You be my girlfriend and I'll show you."

Sara tried, but failed to hold back a scoff.

"First of all, you already have a girlfriend. Second of all, it's our graduation. We're never going to see each other again after this!"

"So? We could be…a long distance couple. I've worked hard to get to this point. In case you care to notice, I've raised my grades and passed tenth, and eleventh, and twelfth grade. I'm going to college to be a football player!"

They sat in a tense silence for a while.

"Besides," Chandler added breaking the tension. "Candy? She's not my girlfriend. She's my 'temporary date'."

"Yes, but does she know that?" Sara questioned.

"Well…I don't know."

"Well that's a surprise. Look, I've got to go."

Sara made to turn around and step away from behind the potted plant, but suddenly Chandler grasped her arm.

"Wait Sara!"

Sara turned back around and brushed his hand off her in an instant.

"What?" she cried incredulously.

"I…I…I…"

"You what?"

Then suddenly, Chandler Shelton leant forward and kissed Sara Sidle squarely on the lips. Sara's entire mental state seemed to swell, winding the tension in her body to the breaking point. She did the only thing she thought to do at the moment: She slapped him.

He cried out in pain and brought a hand to his left cheek, taking several steps backwards in the process.

"What the heck was that for?" he cried, gasping slightly in pain.

"You see this space between you and me?" Sara muttered, her voice ridden with angry shock, gesturing at the two-foot boundary now separating them.

"Yeah…" Chandler grumbled, still rubbing his face forcefully.

"This is how close you will ever get to me ever again, unless you want me filing charges. Do you understand?"

"Yeah…" Chandler moaned. Then Sara turned on her heel and stormed out from behind the potted plants.

"What happened?" Arilyn asked when Sara's positively disgusted expression came into view. Emma was looking over Sara's shoulder at Chandler as he exited the row of tall potted trees, red hand mark blaring from his face. Derek looked concerned and cocked an eyebrow at her when Sara quickly grabbed a glass of punch and chugged it down within a few moments.

She emerged from her drink gasping, lips curled slightly in disgust.

"What happened?" Arilyn repeated.

Sara remained quiet and placed her hands on her hips, still gasping slightly. She glanced over her shoulder towards Chandler. Candy was now picking over him like a distressed mother, caressing the red mark on his chin and throwing angry glares over at Sara.

"Hello? Earth to Sara? Bother to tell us what happened?"

Sara hesitated, then shook her head.

"He's crazy…"

"I know. I dated him. What'd he do?"

Sara grinned exasperatedly, then muttered, "He _kissed_ me."

"Oh…" Arilyn cringed slightly. Emma's eyes were wide, her chin dropped, and Derek's concerned look only intensified.

"Lips or cheek?" Arilyn asked, taking a quick bite from her cake and chewing.

Sara hesitated, then spoke. "Lips…"

Arilyn nearly spat the food over the floor, only managing to hold it back with a couple of well-timed gulps. Emma's gaze snapped from Chandler and Candy to Sara, her large eyes nearly popping out of her head. Derek's face changed instantly to something close to that of an alert guard dog.

"Derek, I'm fine." Sara muttered, catching wind of his ready to act manner.

"Are you sure?" He looked down at her, raising his eyebrows even higher.

"You don't have to go all big brother protects little sister, all right? I've already taught him a lesson and told him if he ever comes within two feet of me again I'm going to file charges."

Derek bit his lip, but Sara was smiling so his frown turned into a slight soft grin. Emma and Arilyn had begun laughing madly, until Matt and Alan showed up, just as a new song started.

"See you later Sara, Derek." Emma murmured as Matt swept her away. Alan and Arilyn went towards the dance floor as well, but Sara turned to sit back on the bench.

"Aren't you going to dance?" Derek asked, following her to the seat.

"Nope." She sat down and pulled the book from her purse.

"Why?"

"Because I don't dance."

Derek went quiet and gazed out at the dance floor.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I wouldn't dance with anyone right now."

Derek glanced up at a clock that was ticking away on a wall.

"Come outside with me for a bit, will you?"

"What for?"

"I'll show you. Remember, I have a surprise for you."

"You never said anything about a—" But Derek was already lifting her to her feet. Then they walked together out the side doors Derek had first entered, Sara feeling oddly confused.

The stars were still out and a slight breeze blew through the parking lot, sending shivers up Sara's spine. The trees were waving in the wind, their thick boughs adorned with rustling. An owl hooted through the night, dew seemed to be forming on a couple of plants, and flowers, as well as a mist was lingering over the grass.

"Here," Derek murmured, swiping his tan jacket off his shoulders. He wrapped it around Sara's bare arms and she sighed with the warmth of the jacket. It didn't quite smell like the Nelson home, but it was still comforting.

"Thanks," she replied.

"So," Derek began, reaching an arm around Sara's shoulder and pulling her closer to him. "How've you really been?"

"I told you, I've been fine."

"What's happened?" he questioned deeper.

Another breeze blew through the tree branches and another rustle of leaves only confirmed it.

"Nothing much really."

"Oh, come on, you're not telling me that the four…three? Four?"

"Four." Sara verified, slight smirk riding its way across her face.

"The four years we've been 'incommunicado' nothing major has happened?"

"Well…no…I just—there's nothing you really need to know, is there?"

"Start with Chandler. How do you know him?"

Sara let out a small chuckle.

"Oh let's see, he's had a crush on me since I was fourteen. He asked me out once, I said no. Turned into this great big fight and I ended up punching him."

Derek laughed.

"You'd think he'd have learned!"

"Yeah, well, I guess not. I thought he was over me for the longest time."

"Trust me Sara, anyone would kiss you tonight if they got the chance. You look great."

Sara smiled shyly and pulled Derek's jacket closer around her.

"What else? I need details!" Derek prodded.

"Well…I got a job, against Leroy and Em's wishes, but I got one. I managed to keep it a secret for a whole year."

"What gave it away?"

"Well, Emma told me that Em and Leroy went up to the school to make sure I got home in order to call…my mom…and they found out that there was no study group, like I said there was. Leroy got really mad."

They stopped walking by a bench located on the edge of the lot. Derek sat down and Sara followed suit, sighing faintly.

"He hurt you didn't he." Derek stated, the cheer in his voice gone.

"Yeah, he did." Sara looked away from Derek. "Mentally and physically. Apparently his outlook on me isn't very good."

"You get to keep your job?"

"Yep."

"How'd things go after that?"

"Hasn't said a single word to me since except for: 'Get out of my way. Get me this. Get me that.' I can do pretty much anything I want to and he wouldn't care. He's basically given up on me."

"Yeah, well we know he's an idiot."

"Yeah," Sara giggled and plucked a fallen green leaf from the bench. "Hasn't even bothered to notice I'm going to college on my own money."

"It's nearly midnight…The surprise should be here soon."

"What is it?" Sara questioned eagerly, gratefully leaving the previous conversation.

"I can't tell you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

Sara smirked. "I knew you'd say that."

"I knew you'd ask."

Silence prevailed for a few minutes before the questions ensued.

"So what's been going on with you? How's…Jeanette was it? What's she like?"

"Well…we met in a coffee shop."

"A coffee shop? You?"

"I told you I was changing."

"You get your degree yet?"

"Almost. I have a couple years to go."

"How'd you pay for it?"

"Well, Frankie and Jill, they paid for my first semester while I worked. Then I paid for the rest of it."

"They still in money trouble?"

Derek let out a small breath through his nose and he appeared to deflate in his seat, his arm becoming slightly heavier on Sara's shoulder.

"Not really, sort of, but not really. Jill doesn't have to be home half-time with Meg anymore so she's got a job now."

"How old is Meg now?" Sara asked, leaning her head on Derek's shoulder.

"Nine, going on ten."

"That makes Mike and Taylor…"

"Eleven. Their birthday's in August."

Sara sighed longingly, receiving in return a squeeze on the shoulder. Suddenly, a blinding light filled Sara eyes and she sat up straight, out of Derek's grip.

"What…oh…it's a car."

She meant to lay back down but Derek was standing.

"The surprise is here." he declared, walking towards the car as it parked in one of the only empty spots.

"What are you talking about? Delivery?"

"Come on," Derek turned around and grasped her arm, tugging her gently towards the car.

"What—"

But just then, a rather large silhouette of a person appeared out of the driver side of the doorway. The door closed and the person waddled over to the back door of the car and lifted out another small, silhouetted person. Then words were spoken as the passenger door opened and yet another silhouette appeared, smaller than the first but larger than the second.

Sara couldn't believe her eyes. It couldn't be. But that voice, it was so cheerful and pleasant, she instantly recognized it as the voice that greeted her that day five years ago.

"It…It couldn't be…" she murmured breathlessly. She gripped Derek's arm for support but just then, the first shadowed person stepped out into a beam of streetlight.

It was Frankie, holding a sleeping young girl with long curly blonde hair. Meg.

Sara stood stock-still, her mind quite unsure of what to do. Then the next second, the right back door swung open, and two smaller figures piled out quickly, the next second sprinting up to Sara and staring up at her.

"Hello Sara." Frankie muttered, clearing his throat and hoisting Meg up further in his grip.

"It's not Sara." declared Mike from before her. He and Taylor were staring up at Sara, their hair still ruffled, their outfits consisting of torn jeans and wrinkled t-shirts.

"Of course I'm Sara," she muttered, her voice cracking, her jaw trembling.

"No you're not. You're wearing a dress. Sara hates dresses."

"Come here,"

Sara bent slightly to the boys' height and held out her arms. They shared an anxious glance, as if wanting to reassure with the other it was safe. Then the two stepped forwards, each taking a hug in one or the other arm. Sara squeezed, breathing in the fresh scent of their hair, a familiar scent of the home she had at one point been a part of.

They broke apart and Mike and Taylor's eyes had widened, happiness shining in them like a million pools of reflecting joy.

"It _is_ you Sara." Taylor declared. "But—you're in a dress!" They're faces twisted into confusion and Sara let out a slight chuckle, then a sniff.

"This wasn't my idea. It was Arilyn, my friend."

"Oh…"

Sara stood up straight again and glanced at Derek. He was smiling, his hair gleaming under a streetlight, chocolate eyes shining. She looked away at the people before her and took a step forward, and then another, and another, until she was in front of Jill. The woman had exited the car after the twins and was now standing next to Frankie and the dozing Meg.

Her eyes were wet with joyful tears at the moment, her hair with a prominent gray streak, but what comforted Sara was that her eyes were still friendly. She knew she hadn't changed one bit.

"Oh Sara," she cried, then next second reaching out and hugging her tightly. Sara returned it, tears filling her eyes as she heard Jill's small sobs of joy. For some unknown reason Sara chuckled, almost as if she were laughing at the prospect this was actually happening.

"I've missed you Sara. I'm sorry we never visited but it was obvious you're aunt and uncle didn't want us around."

"I've missed you too." Sara mumbled into her shoulder. She didn't want to let go—this was comfort she didn't want to let go of.

"Oh, honey you look beautiful." Jill cried, wiping tears from her cheek and then cradling Sara's face in her hands.

"Thanks,"

"Go, go hug your dad."

Sara smiled._ Dad. _It sounded right. It all seemed like a dream as Sara broke away from Jill. How could they possibly be here?

Frankie shifted Meg into his right arm and reached out to Sara with his left. She walked towards it, and when she was within his reach, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders in an enormous bear hug, his grip so tight it seemed he would never let go.

"You've grown up so much. You're acting so proud, and deserving, and dignified, and so mature. You have every right to be angry with us but you're not. I'm _so_ glad you're not."

He laid his graying head atop Sara's and squeezed her again. Sara fought once more to hold back tears, although Frankie was doing no such thing, allowing his fat, round tears to roll freely down his face. They broke apart, Frankie taking great loud sniffs. The stood in silence for a few seconds while Frankie attempted to recover. When he finally did, he shook his right arm softly and muttered into Meg's ear, 'Sara's here, Sara's here'.

The girl stirred quietly, her eyes opening slowly at first so she was no more than squinting, but then she caught sight of Sara.

"Sara…?" she questioned unsteadily, slight hesitation in her voice just as Mike and Taylor had encountered.

Sara smiled at her. Meg returned it.

"Sara!" She flung out her arms towards her and Sara lifted her up and out of Frankie's pudgy arms. She weighed quite a good number, but Sara braced her arms and placed Meg on her hip. Meg proceeded to hugging her around the neck as tightly as she could, causing Sara to nearly drop the little girl.

"Aren't you getting a little big to be carried everywhere?" Sara questioned.

"I didn't _ask_ to be carried out of the car."

"Then you wouldn't mind me putting you down, would you?"

Meg squirmed towards the ground and Sara let her slide down to it, only to be embraced around the knees, nearly loosing all balance.

"I've missed you. Dad was mean and he wouldn't let us go see you. Will you ground him? You're an…an…_adult_…like Derek now, right? You can ground him now?" She said the word as though not quite sure how to use it.

Sara and several other people around chuckled.

"No, not really. How's your reading been going?" Sara asked, still smiling.

Meg beamed.

"I'm getting straight A's."

Sara's smile widened.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you Meg."

"She's your minion." Mike declared. "But not nearly as nice."

Meg stuck her tongue out at the boys who stuck theirs out right back. Afterwards, Meg clung to Sara's hand. She was actually gaining up on height, Sara's estimate around five feet tall. She definitely _shouldn't_ have picked her up.

"Uh…Dad, did you…bring the uh…'present'?" Derek asked from his quiet, smiling, stance by the car.

"Oh, yes, that's right. Remember Meg, what I gave you this morning? I said you had to give it to Sara for all the birthday's we've had to miss?"

"We didn't have to miss it Dad." Meg muttered bossily. "You made us miss it."

Tension followed while Meg dug fervently in her tiny jean pocket. Eventually, she dragged out an envelope with a flourish of her wrist.

"Here Sara."

"What's this?" Sara asked through a smile. It was probably a card of some sort. She tore open the envelope neatly and pulled out the expected card from inside.

"Let's go over to a streetlight, so I can read it."

The group strode over to the bench Sara and Derek had resided in minutes before.

The card was a light blue, a picture of white roses on the front and a poem stretching all the way to the next page. Sara read it aloud, "Though time may change, friends do not, but when friends are lost, what else do you got? There's something special everyone has. Everyone has, a mom and a dad." Sara glanced up at Frankie and Jill as she read, then continued,

"Thought they may not be true, they're there all the same. They'll help you maneuver through life's game. After the parents come the number two set, a brother or sister who cause you to fret. But don't worry because, after all's said and done, they'll be the one's who let you have fun. There's something in life that everyone's got. It's one special thing that means so much more." She turned the page to spy an upside down check. She quickly read off the last bit of the card, and then the part they had written to her specially. "A family, a family, and nothing more. _We_ are your family Sara. Remember that always, somebody, somewhere, cares about you very much. Love, Jill, Frankie, Meg, Mike, Taylor, and Derek."

Sara looked up at them with a wide grin on her face, tears making their way towards the breaking point again.

"Thank you, thank you very much." Meg squeezed on her finger and gave her another latching hug across the knees.

"But what's the check for?"

"Well look at it." Jill prodded.

Sara raised an eyebrow at her, smirk riding across her face, but she went and flipped the check over all the same.

"A thousand dollars!" Sara exclaimed, utter shock in her voice. Her eyes widened and her hands trembled as she held the slip of paper in her hand. "I-I-I can't take this from you guys, I can't." She attempted to give the paper back to Jill, but the woman refused to take it.

"We owe it to you. You've been so angry with us."

"Wa-wa-wait. I'm angry with you? I'm disappointed with you, but not angry with you. Never contacting me after four years? That didn't make me angry with you, just disappointed you weren't talking to me."

"What are you talking about Sara? We sent letters to you at least twice a week."

"Letters?" Sara cried.

"Didn't you get them?" Meg whined from below.

Sara blinked. So they _had _tried to talk to her. She was the one not talking to _them._

"I-I-I never got them."

"Your aunt and uncle probably tossed them away before you ever got to read them. We thought you just weren't writing back."

"Why didn't you tell me about them before?"

"We had assumed you were angry with us and didn't want to be bothered. After all, it did seem like we kicked you out."

"Why not a telephone call?"

It was a stupid question; Sara already figured the answer out before she finished asking.

"Your aunt and uncle."

"Right…"

She stared back down at the check in her hands, the numbers in ink staring up at her from the paper. 1-0-0-0. One thousand dollars into her college savings. One thousand dollars to help her off her feet into her new life. One thousand dollars.

"It's cold," Meg stated, interrupting the silence in which everyone was watching Sara stare at the check. "Can we go inside?"

"Do they have cake Sara?" Mike questioned eagerly, his eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah, they have cake. But ask Jill and Frankie first." Sara bossed, but Mike, Taylor, and Meg paid no heed and dashed right into the building.

"I'll get them," Derek muttered, walking away, "I'll leave you three alone."

Sara watched him leave then turned to the two people in front of her, check still in her trembling fingers.

"Uh…Thanks." she finally managed. It was really a pathetic recognition, not nearly comparable to the true joy she felt.

Jill smiled broadly and Frankie sniffed again. The next moment, the three had joined in another tight hug. Frankie began to sniffle harder as more fat tears accumulated. Jill's broad smile continued to shine over Sara's shoulder, and Sara was laughing slightly among the sobs escaping her mouth. They broke apart a few seconds later as Meg came padding up to them, her hair flopping up and down in the dim light.

"Mom! Dad! Mike and Taylor said that I couldn't have any of the cake. I think you should _chastise_ them."

Sara raised her eyebrows, but Jill and Frankie didn't seem to notice.

"Have you been learning some bigger words while I was gone?" Sara questioned her as Jill swept into the building, Frankie following, noting to give Sara a pat on the head as he passed.

Meg beamed. "You bet. I look in the dictionary every day to find a new word."

Sara chuckled.

"Why don't we go inside? You might find a date you know,"

Meg's eyes widened. "I'm not allowed to date. You know that."

"But tonight's special. It's a dance."

Meg stared up at her with her sharp gray eyes, their pupils reflecting the street lamp, light dancing across their surface.

"Well you can at least dance, right?" Sara offered noticing quite pointedly that Meg wasn't going to go and break her mother's rules that simply.

"I suppose…" Meg mumbled. She then turned and scampered into the building. Sara was now alone in the night with nothing but Derek's coat and her purse over on the bench at the edge of the parking lot. She swept over to the seat beneath the street light and picked up the items gingerly. When she got to her purse after draping Derek's coat around her nearly bare shoulders, she took the check, glanced at it once more, and tucked it into the bag.

"Sara!" came the call of somebody. She turned her head to the doors to see Arilyn and Emma standing there. Sara began walking towards them, pulling the jacket closer around her to protect against the breeze blowing across the parking lot.

"Do you know what kind of people have just shown up?" Arilyn cried incredulously.

"Umm…my family?"

Arilyn laughed.

"Yeah, I know, Meg…was that her name?" she asked Emma. Emma nodded simply.

"Yeah, Meg she told me at the buffet table. That they were with you. Your brothers are such smart little boys." A sort of false smile spread across Arilyn's face and it stayed there.

"Really…is that what they seem?"

"Well…I didn't want to say this but…They're talking to Chandler."

"What!" Sara swept in past the two girls.

"Hello Miss Bulldozer! Nice to talk to you too!" Arilyn mumbled as Sara stormed past her, shoving her purse into Arilyn's hands. The building was alive with the sounds of music and chatter. Sara surveyed the floor like a hawk, searching for any hint of the twins. Arilyn had said that Meg was at the buffet table so Sara headed in that direction.

When she got there Meg wasn't present, but a slight sound from her right caught her attention. It sounded like Mike or Taylor was over by the string of potted trees and strings of crepe paper Chandler had cornered her by earlier. Sara walked briskly over towards the noise and just as she had suspected, Mike and Taylor were both standing there, chatting with Chandler and Candy.

"So, you play football?" Mike questioned.

"I don't _play_ football little man; I am the _king_ of football." Chandler bragged

"Wow!" Mike and Taylor exclaimed.

"More like the king of vanity." Sara muttered harshly.

Chandler's gaze snapped to Sara who was standing cross-armed in the entrance to their little 'corner'. Candy was glaring at Sara, who was glaring daggers at Chandler, who appeared to be struggling to pick up the shattered pieces of the situation.

"I wouldn't believe a word he says boys." Sara muttered. Mike and Taylor were staring quizzically around at the three, first at Sara, then at Chandler, and then at Candy.

"Are you here to steal Chandler away from me again?" Candy sneered. Sara's gaze snapped to hers and their eyes met. Blue on brown, and no one was going to back off. "Are you going to try and _woo _him away with another one of your kisses?"

Sara raised an eyebrow and dropped her jaw in an offended way.

"W-w-wait…You think _I_ kissed _Chandler_? Are you nuts?"

Chandler cleared his throat authoritatively.

"Uh, Sara—"

"I think you need to get your facts straight."

"Well everyone knows you've had a crush on him for forever!"

"Candy—"

But Candy continued. "And everybody knows you're just a snob."

"A snob?" Sara repeated.

"You reject everyone who wants to get to know you if they're not up to your supposed standards. Then you find somebody like Chandler, who, quite surprising to you apparently, is out of your league." She spat the last few words and then continued. "So when you ask him out on a date and he refuses you, continues to make a harmless joke, you nearly break his nose!"

Sara's eyes were wide open, her jaw hanging, Mike and Taylor with the same expressions on their faces.

"And _then_you and that…Anna, was it? Form a 'rejected by Chandler' sort of club thing, right after she was dumped."

"Candy really—"

"_Then_,_" _Candy continued, taking absolutely no heed to Chandler's pleas for silence. "You _still_ can't properly control your emotions for him, so when he pulls you over to a private area where he wants to convince you he's not interested, you _kiss_ him." Suddenly Candy pointed to a small bruise on Sara's arm.

"And that? That was from where Chandler pushed you away to get you off him. And then you slapped him when he continued to say he wasn't interested."

The truth about the bruise was really Leroy had pushed Sara aside that morning, causing her to bump painfully into a wall. And here Candy was, making up hundreds of lies.

Candy concluded her rambles with a poisonous question. "What do you have to say to that?"

The entire room seem to fall into silence as Sara thought for a moment, her eyebrows raised, her voice box shut off due to shock. Then she managed, "Well…Uh…First of all, I have to say I'm impressed."

Candy raised her over-tweezed brows at her.

"I never would have thought you were smart enough to think up something that elaborate."

Candy narrowed her eyes at her and glared.

"Second…umm…Chandler, I would have thought you didn't need a woman to fight your battles for you, much less lie to someone while they fought your battles."

Chandler opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, as if thinking about what he could possibly say in the present situation.

"Look, Candy," Sara continued, turning to her, "_Arilyn's_ the one who broke up with _Chandler_, _Chandler's_ the one who asked _me_ on date, _I_ was the one who rejected _him_, _he_ was the one who kissed _me_!"

The corner fell silent again. Mike and Taylor were still looking quite confused, Candy was still glaring daggers at Sara, and Chandler still looked completely humiliated.

"Uh…Candy? Baby, why don't we go…dance or something?"

"Just what I was thinking…" Candy hissed. Then Chandler and Candy, who was still latched onto his arm like a leech, walked out from behind the row of potted trees and danced, leaving Sara and the twins standing completely speechless. After a few moments, Taylor spoke, confusion etched into every syllable.

"You _kissed_ him?"

"Well…I wouldn't _really_ call it a kiss…"

Mike and Taylor glared accusingly at her.

"Okay, so it was a kiss, but _he_ kissed _me_."

They curled their lips in disgust.

"Oh you two are so immature. It was just a kiss! An involuntary one I could file charges on…but still…"

The two beamed proudly.

"What did I say?"

"You said we are immature. We know. We get that a lot." Mike affirmed.

"Oh…right. Well, if it makes you feel any less revolted, I don't like him."

"He's a liar." Taylor stated.

"Yep."

Then suddenly, a voice from behind them sent all three jumping.

"Hey Sara, Mike, Taylor. What's going on? Party without me?"

It was Derek.

"This whole thing is a party Derek." Sara muttered.

"It's a figure of speech."

"I know."

"I—"

"Chandler's a liar." Mike interrupted.

"What'd he say?" Derek questioned.

"He said that Sara likes him and that she kissed him." Taylor added.

"But he was the one who kissed her." Mike finished.

"Where is he now?" Derek asked, his brows furrowing with slight concern.

"Derek," Sara began, turning and staring him straight in the face, "There's really nothing you have to worry about it. He just told Candy some untrue things about me. You don't have to go all big brother. I've asked you before not to."

"Sorry," Derek muttered.

"You're getting too defensive. I can take care of myself just fine."

Derek seemed to ignore the comment for a moment, for the next words he spoke were to Mike and Taylor. "Mike, Taylor; Mom and Dad were looking for you earlier. They want to talk to you about…something or another."

The twins scampered off in the direction of Jill and Frankie who were seated on a bench over on the far left of the gym. Meg was with them, her half-asleep head leaning against Frankie's shoulder peacefully. Sara and Derek watched them go quietly before turning back to each other.

"Look, it's nothing really. They're just lies, not anything I can't deal with. He hasn't hurt me at all."

"Maybe not physically, but what about mentally?" Derek questioned sternly.

"I'm _fine_ Derek. Really!"

"I'm just watching out for you. You know that right?"

"I'm not an emotionally disturbed fourteen-year-old anymore! I can handle these things without a breakdown!"

Derek blinked under her sternly spoken words. She had never really raised her voice to him before, not meaningfully. This was different. They stopped speaking for a few seconds, before Sara started again, "Look, I'm going to go sit down. I'm probably going to leave soon."

"All right. I'm going to go…dance or something."

Derek walked off, his head drooping slightly. Sara cursed herself for acting that way towards him as she strode over to an unoccupied bench and sat down. In her silence, she discovered she was becoming steadily more annoyed with the blaring music and constant chatter of people around her. She placed her head in her hands and groaned with tiredness. She should probably be driving over to Emma's house soon to get a good nights rest before she went to catch her flight a couple days from today.

Leroy and Em had sworn to her that as soon as her graduation was officially over, she had one more trip into the house to grab her stuff and leave the house key, and then she was out of there for good. She didn't mind. She was going to college as soon as possible.

Time passed and song after song played over the speakers. Jill and Frankie had even gotten up and danced to a couple of slow songs, leaving the slumbering Meg to Sara. As 1:00 neared, Sara was becoming steadily more itchy eyed and drowsy. Even Mike and Taylor seemed to be losing their energetic, sugar induced spark.

Arilyn and Emma continued dropping by, normally to chat up Meg, Jill, Frankie, the twins, or Derek who came over occasionally, and then they went to dance again.

At nearly one thirty, Emma came by with a glass of nonalcoholic sparkling cranberry juice.

"Aren't you going to dance to just one song?"

"Nope."

"Just one song."

"There's no one to dance with."

"Derek isn't dancing with anybody."

Sara's gaze wandered out onto the dance floor, but as soon as they spotted Derek, Arilyn, and Alan dancing, they then fell on Chandler and Candy, sending any possible prospects of dancing completely out of her head.

"I'm not dancing."

"Party pooper."

"Go away." Sara muttered jokingly, head leaning on her hand, smile creeping across it.

"No."

"Fine, _I'll_ go away." Sara stood up abruptly.

"_No_ you're not."

Emma swapped her juice between her hands, reached up, and grabbed Sara's elbow, pulling her back down into her seat.

"Fine…" Sara huffed, placing her head back onto her hand. "I'm thinking about leaving soon. I'm beat."

"Is your family going to come with you to my house?"

"I don't know. Probably not. They probably have to head home before Frankie ends up falling asleep at the wheel."

Emma sighed and looked over at the sleeping Meg on the bench.

"Your sister's cute."

"Yeah…" Sara agreed.

"You know, if you hadn't ever told me that they were your foster siblings, I would have thought you were related. You and Meg have the same personality…sort of…and Mike and Taylor there's just something about them that reminds me of you. And Derek, well…Derek, he looks just like you."

Sara grinned slightly.

"You know, if you go…I have to go. You're my ride home, remember?"

"Yep."

"At least Arilyn and Alan are getting a ride home from Arilyn's parents."

"At two in the morning?" Sara asked incredulously.

"That's her curfew."

"Oh…wow…I have no curfew."

"You're home at eight every night."

"I…set my own curfew."

Emma chuckled. "Typical…"

Sara chuckled with her, smile fading slowly afterwards.

"You know, I'm going to go. I'm really tired."

"I'll go too. Maybe my parents will be home. Sleeping, but home."

"All right. Just…let me say goodbye, swap addresses and—"

But just then, the slightly upbeat song halted and Derek swept over to Sara, hand outstretched.

"Dance with me on this next one?" he questioned, smile on his face.

Emma was beaming at Sara who looked rather stuck in the tight situation.

"Uh…Emma, didn't Arilyn say there was no alcohol at this dance?" Sara asked.

"Very funny Sara, come on! Dance with me!"

"I-I-I have to get some-some-sleep. Sleep. Yeah. So I'm well rested."

"Just one dance?" Derek pleaded. "This one's nice and slow!" he offered, as a new tune came on that was quite softer than the last one.

"But—"

"Go on Sara!" Emma prodded giving Sara a slight shove out of her chair. Via Emma pushing her by the small of her back, and Derek grasping her arm gently and tugging her forward, Sara stood up from her seat.

"What if someone thinks we're dating? That's disgusting! You're my brother!"

"We know we're not dating and that's what matters, right?"

"I—"

But Derek had grabbed her hand and was now dragging her unwillingly onto the dance floor.

"Derek!"

"Shh…" he whispered, putting a finger up to silence her. He then grasped her other hand and laced his fingers through hers. "All right, your right hand goes here." He took her right hand and placed it on his shoulder, then led his left hand to her waist.

"Derek—"Sara began.

"Bu-Bu-Buh! And _this_ hand," He raised their merged fingers upwards and to the right. "Goes here." He smiled and began moving slowly in a circle to the melody. Sara let him guide her, for she was more preoccupied with their feet, paying careful attention not to step on his toes.

"And you just keep moving around and around like this." he murmured above the soft, melodic, music that was playing.

"You know, I'm glad I'm being taught how to slow dance by you rather than my…first date or something."

"I figured you would be."

Sara looked up from the ground into Derek's chocolate eyes. That was a mistake.

"Ow!" Derek exclaimed softly as Sara's high-heeled shoe met his foot.

"Sorry!" Sara cried apologetically, glancing down at her feet that had been so suddenly knocked out of rhythm.

"No problems. Just start up again."

They began revolving slowly again, Derek still guiding Sara through the steps.

"There, you've got it now. Now stop watching your feet."

Sara looked uneasily up from the floor spinning beneath them and back at Derek.

"There, see?" he encouraged. "No worries."

Sara smirked and allowed Derek to continue moving her gently across the floor. Then Derek mumbled, "Hey…uh…I just wanted to let you know that…I'm sorry. I really am."

A confused look brought itself upon Sara's face.

"For what?" she asked.

"For everything."

Sara let out a small laugh and smiled again.

"Like what?"

"Well, tonight for example. Like you said, I'm too defensive and I'm sorry for it. I didn't mean to be."

"Derek, that's nothing. I just…needed some space to deal with things myself like I have been for seventeen years!"

"I guess I just…don't want what happened to me to happen to you, for you to get wrapped up in that sort of thing."

"Derek, you know me better. You know I'm not that stupid."

Derek jutted his jaw.

"Yeah…I'm sorry."

"And you're forgiven. I just…you know…no. Forget it. It's nothing."

"What?"

"Well…" Sara hesitated. "Well, I just…I've kind of lost my faith in people—permanently it seems right now. And you getting into that accident and that bag it was just… degrading? Would you maybe say?"

"You sound like Meg." Derek muttered, then bit his lip. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. But trust me; I've changed."

"And I believe you…for now." Sara threatened.

They were silent for a few moments, dwelling in the spinning, swirling movements they were making across the floor.

"You _do_ look gorgeous tonight." Derek muttered, "And that's coming from a completely not Chandler guy. I was hoping I'd be the one dancing with you tonight."

"You know there are some moments I'd think you were my angel." Sara whispered.

"Really?"

"And others when you're more like the devil's advocate."

"I mean it though. _Any_ man would fall for you tonight Sara Marie Sidle."

Sara smiled up at him.

"I wouldn't have wanted to hear that from anybody else."

Then the song ended.

_The End

* * *

_

I Hope You Dance: By Lee Ann Womack

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder  
You get your fill to eat  
But always keep that hunger  
May you never take one single breath for granted  
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed  
I hope you still feel small  
When you stand by the ocean  
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens  
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
I hope you dance  
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance  
Never settle for the path of least resistance  
Living might mean taking chances  
But they're worth taking  
Lovin' might be a mistake  
But it's worth making  
Don't let some hell bent heart  
Leave you bitter  
When you come close to selling out  
Reconsider  
Give the heavens above  
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
I hope you dance  
Time is a real and constant motion always  
I hope you dance  
Rolling us along  
I hope you dance  
Tell me who  
I hope you dance  
Wants to look back on their youth and wonder  
Where those years have gone

I hope you still feel small  
When you stand by the ocean  
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens  
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance  
Dance  
I hope you dance  
I hope you dance  
Time is a real and constant motion always  
I hope you dance  
Rolling us along  
I hope you dance  
Tell me who  
Wants to look back on their youth and wonder  
I hope you dance  
Where those years have gone

Tell me who  
I hope you dance  
Wants to look back on their youth and wonder  
Where those years have gone

* * *

A/N: I'd like to say THANK YOU to all my reviewers! You guys are excellent, and the fuel who kept me going! I love this story, and I'm sure you do to...so...GOODBYE! I'm sorry this last chapter took so long, but hey! It's 24 Word Pages thank you very much! If you have any questions about something, email me at and stay tuned for a random 'other' chapter thing with just a bunch of random information you don't really need to know but I thought I'd put out anyway.

Also: Stay tuned for my next story. It's not a sequel to this, but it is CSI.

Flowers of Flame

An arsonist is burning down whole apartment buildings, managing to haul in the entire CSI team to work the steadily increase in dead bodies and attacks. The case becomes much more personal when one CSI begins receiving stanzas of a threatening poem, piece by piece, each accompanied by a bouquet of white lilies—the flower of death.


	20. A Painstakingly Thought Out List of Rand...

A Painstakingly Thought Out List of Random Information

I was bored, so I made this list of all the character's mentioned in the story, whether by name, visual,or speaking part. They're birthday's are listed as well as their part in the story. I also thought it'd be neat to throw in their middle names, just for the heck of it.

**Character Full Names, Birthdays, and Parts in the Story **

Sara Marie Sidle — the main character — September 23

Jim Richard Sidle — Sara's father — November 1

Laura Rayenne (Taylor) Sidle — Sara's mother — April 13

Nicole Anne Herdman — Sara's second grade teacher — December 22

Michael Keith Thomas — B&B guest — June 30

Madelyn Rae (Keller) Thomas — Michael's mother — March 2

Elijah John Thomas — Michael's father — May 16

Clarabelle Lynne Anderson — Lived in Sara's Upper Level — September 15

Diane Linda (Smith) Howard — Social Worker — August 1

Marie Jane Marlon — CSI Investigator on Jim's murder — January 7

Jillian (Jill) Casey (Forror) Nelson — Sara's foster mom — November 25

Frank (Frankie) Leonard Nelson — Sara's foster dad — July 31

Derek Alexander Nelson — Sara's foster brother — February 1

Michael (Mike) Tyler Nelson — Sara's foster brother — August 7

Taylor Marcus Nelson — Sara's foster brother — August 7

Margaret (Meg) Alexandria Nelson — Sara's foster sister — September 19

Beth Joanne Burn — Jill's telephone friend — June 5

Shannon Jane Madison — Meg's "Mary Jane Shoed" friend — June 18

Kyle Benjamin Bentley — Mike and Taylor's friend — May 19

Todd Bradley Fenton — Derek's friend — November 2

Brian Anthony Keating — Derek's friend — October 30

Christopher Matthew Carter — Derek's friend — November 6

Leroy Nathaniel Ronaway — Sara's uncle — March 20

Emily Beth (Taylor) Ronaway — Sara's aunt — February 2

Caitlin Shelby (Martin) Wither — Sara's 9th grade teacher — August 31

Emma Lillian Hammond — Sara's best friend — June 11

Nathaniel Russell Harrison — Taxi Driver — March 2

Chandler Jacob Shelton — Jock with crush on Sara — August 10

Jacob (Jake)Frederick Harris -- One of Chandler's Friends -- June 5

Lee Hunter Gouker -- One of Chandler's Friends -- November 18

Bud Gregory Gordon — Sara's boss — July 1

Arilyn Elizabeth Brice — Sara's best friend — April 21

Lydia Ann Cretch — Resigned dish-girl — March 3

Matthew Adam Taff — Emma's dance — January 4

Jeremy John Helmers — Geeky boy from school —October 2

Candy Loraine Bemis — Chandler's date — May 20

Jeanette Felicity Jane Swenson — Derek's steady girlfriend — March 8

* * *

**Where are they now? 'Cause you know you want to know…**

What ever happened to…

**Laura? **

She's still serving her life-sentences. I don't know if she was innocent or not in the last murder, I wasn't there, but she probably did do it, the jury convicted her after all. She and Sara do not keep in touch. Sara feels she isn't a good mother and that she doesn't deserve her daughter, you know, ever since that one phone throwing night.

**Michael?**

You mean the butthead? He and Sara never met up again, mostly 'cause he's a great fat JERK. However, if you really want to know, he's assistant coach for a school's softball team over in Illinois.

**Jill and Frankie?**

Jill and Frankie quit the foster care business. Frankie is a retired accountant. Jill used to work as a secretary at an insurance company, but now works as a cashier at a craft store. They lost touch with Sara as well, sad, but true, mostly because Sara was too busy leaving to remember to ask for an address or phone number.

**Derek?**

Much to my dismay upon hearing this…Derek has married, indeed, he has married Jeanette Felicity Jane What's-her-face. I'm jealous, that lucky duck. He finished college like he said he would and now works as a car mechanic in San Fran.

**Mike and Taylor?**

Ah, the twins. Mike and Taylor now work in the cockpits of demolition derbies. Front row seats and you get to break things. :D

**Meg?**

Meg now works in a law firm over somewhere in the state of Oregon where she gets to boss people around all day.

**Leroy and Em?**

The two dunderheads are dead, Leroy of alcohol poisoning and Em exposure to the elements after she was evicted from her house.

**Emma?**

Emma became a journalist and still keeps in distant touch with Sara from her station in New York!

**Chandler?**

Dropped out of college, freshman year, didn't manage to play football after that, and now works as a construction worker. Hopefully something will fall on his head. Then we can all point and laugh:D

**Arilyn?**

Arilyn continued working at the diner and when Bud died, she took over the place—Stayed in touch with Sara until Bud died.

**Candy?**

She OD'd in Beauty School. Good for her. Now we can all point and laugh at her grave.

* * *

I just put this out because I thought you might enjoy it. ;) Next story is well under way with a quick prologue. Also, I've thought of an idea for a sequel, I might go with that later. 


End file.
